


Romantically Challenged

by dementorsatemysoup



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Blind Date, Cafe Worker Derek Hale, Cake, F/F, F/M, Gen, In Fact No One Is Dead, Lawyer Stiles Stilinski, Lydia and Erica are bros, M/M, Mentions Past Relationships, No Hale Fire, None Of Derek's Exes Are Dead, Paige Did Not Die, Scott And Stiles Are Bromates, There Are Too Many Dead People In Teen Wolf, an attempt at humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dementorsatemysoup/pseuds/dementorsatemysoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia and Erica set Stiles and Derek up on a blind date. It becomes their best worst decision ever (according to Stiles... Derek agrees).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sure where this came from, nor am I sure if there'll be more, but here's some Sterek since I am getting tired of not seeing any so far this side of season 3 (I mean, even a simple 'hey' would suffice). So yeah.
> 
> Thanks for reading, drop me a comment if you want, and I don't own anyone.
> 
> Bye!!!

Okay, here's the thing, Stiles has known Scott since the second grade when the former offered up half his lunch when the latter's lunch ended up in a heap on the cafeteria floor courtesy of some jackass (the jackass being Jackson). They have been inseparable ever since; were quintessentially soul mates of the bro variety; shared a man-love so deep sometimes people mistook them for an  _actual_  couple ("please, as if Scott could land  _this")_.

They both enjoyed dousing their fries in ketchup and hot sauce ("shut up Isaac, it's delicious"), they both get up extra early and spend Saturday mornings watching cartoons ("don't roll your eyes, Jackson. Spongebob is a goddamn classic"), and they even made a pact that, when they turned thirty, if neither one were married, they'd marry each other ("in our defense, we were eight and it seemed like a good idea at the time" (for the record, it  _still_  seemed like a good idea)).

And maybe, if they were being honest, and until Scott met Allison, they were a bit co-dependent on each other, but so the fuck what. They enjoyed each other's company, understood each other in a way no one could even begin to comprehend. They were bffls ("don't knock the lingo 'til you try it, Lydia"), brothers in every way  _but_  blood (unless they counted the time they tried to become blood brothers ("shut up, Scott, I did not pass out")), and if Stiles secretly, jokingly picked out their wedding colors ("oh, come on Erica, stop laughing. I'm not being entirely serious. Why the hell are we friends, again") well no one really needed to know (Red and Silver, by the way).

When Scott first brought Allison home, Stiles will admit he was a little jealous. Or, he'll admit it to himself and maybe his dad after he had too much to drink ("kid, next time you call me drunk, I'm going to have to throw you in jail"), but after a while he grew used to her, became less jealous, and slowly accepted that he's not number one (okay, number two, Scott's mom always came before anyone) in Scott's life anymore. That's fine. So what if he lost his fake fiancé, it wasn't like they were _actually_  going to get married anyway. Scott's a terrible roommate-messy and too excitable; a little too gullible-and probably would have made a disastrous husband. Stiles doubted their marriage would have lasted more than a week.

Besides, losing Scott as a potential life partner left Stiles open for Lydia Martin. Until she promptly sat him down their third week of college, freshmen year and said, " _While I like you very much, under no circumstance am I going to date you, but let's be friends."_ The crushing blow left Stiles out of commission for about a week, but he bounced back, accepted Lydia's friendship, and grew to regret it every day when she and Erica met (the fact that they've ganged up on him on more than one occasion left him both irritated and a little intimidated).

Stiles liked to think he had a fairly good life. He graduated Stanford with a 3.8 GPA, he found a decently priced apartment three blocks from the law firm he worked for, and he had his best friend (his bromate) as his roommate. Sure, life could be better, life could  _always_ be better ("and if anyone claims they have a perfect life, they are fricking lying"), but he had very few complaints ("shut up, Jackson, I don't complain  _that_  much"), and that definitely had to count for something.

"I need to get laid," Stiles announced landing heavily on the couch, placing his feet in Scott's lap, knocking his hands off the Playstation controller.

"Dude!" Scott exclaimed as his character was shot in the head, blood splattering against the wall. Isaac cheered, right hand in the air, offering Boyd a high five. With a small sigh, Boyd accepted the high-five, his eyes returning to the magazine sitting in his lap.

"It's just a game, Scotty," Stiles said leaning into the couch cushions, closing his eyes. "Besides, I am in the middle of a dilemma here."

"First off, pot, black," Scott started pointing at Stiles.

"What?"

"Oh my god, did you forget The Mario Kart disaster of '02? I mean, there were actually tears." Scott smiled smugly when Stiles rolled his eyes.

"What about the C.O.D. nightmare two summers ago?" Isaac commented with a smirk on his face.

"Don't forget Erica kicking his ass at Mortal Combat last weekend," Boyd supplied keeping his head down, eyes scanning some article about football or whatever (Stiles didn't get football okay).

"You guys are the absolute worst," Stiles whined removing his legs from Scott's lap and crossing his arms tightly across his chest, chewing on his tongue, making a point to ignore his 'so-called' friends. He lasted all of six seconds, before he sighed, loudly, looked back at the trio, and said, "Seriously guys, I need to get laid like yesterday."

"Not it," Boyd and Isaac said together, sharing a fist bump without looking away from their tasks.

"I wasn't asking  _you_ ," Stiles retorted, deadpan, glaring at the smirks on their faces. He turned his attention to Scott and said, "We should go out tonight. Do something. Find me someone hot, willing, and possibly a good cook because I haven't had an omelette in almost two weeks. When's Allison coming back, again?"

"Dude, stop using my girlfriend as your own personal chef," Scott grumbled button mashing, his gun wildly shooting Isaac's way, and missing (no surprise there). Isaac retaliated by shooting Scott in the head and the shorter guy exclaimed, "Goddamn it!"

"Tough luck, Scotty." Stiles patted his friend on the shoulder in faux-sympathy, grinning when Scott glared at him. "And it's not my fault Allison's like a kitchen god. Seriously, I have wet dreams about her food." Stiles placed his legs in Scott's lap again, messing him up a second time, and Isaac managed to get a third kill.

"Dude!" Scott dropped the controller and launched himself at Stiles, punching him repeatedly in the shoulder. They wrestled for a bit, both ending up in a tangled heap on the floor, just as the door opened.

"Oh, have you two finally decided to become a thing?" Lydia's voice asked from above them. "I sure hope Allison knows."

"Hardy-har," Scott grumbled untangling himself from Stiles. He pulled himself to his feet, offering Stiles a hand up. "What's in the bag?"

"What bag?" Stiles looked over, rolling his eyes when he spotted the shopping bag clutched tightly in Lydia's hand. "Lydian no!" he whined doing a full body flail.

"It was on sale," she defended her purchase, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Besides, it'll fit you better than that atrocious flannel and…" she trailed off, her eyes narrowing. "Is that an Iron Man, shirt? Stiles, you are almost thirty, you work for a well-respected law firm…"

"…and I'll wear a damn Iron Man shirt if I want," Stiles finished huffily, and Lydia scoffed, making a b-line for his room. Stiles quickly trailed after her, trying and failing to take the shopping bag from her. Two hand-slaps and a swift kick to the shin later, Lydia pushed him onto his bed and immediately began digging into his closet.

"Touch that bag and I will eviscerate you," she said sharply, and Stiles extracted his hand, leaning back on his palms, watching her warily. "Where are those jeans Erica and I bought you last week?"

"The black ones? Uh, I think Scott has them."

"We did not buy them for Scott." Lydia backed out of his closet and left the room. She returned a few minutes later, her nose crinkled, clutching the jeans in her hand. "You need to tell your roommate to clean his room."

"Believe me, I've tried, but Scott does this puppy dog look and you just-"

Lydia threw the jeans at his head, cutting Stiles off, and she said, "Put those on with…" she turned back to her bag, pulling out a form fitting Henley and a dark blue, nearly black leather jacket. "…these."

"Leather? Really? The last time you tried to get me to wear leather I chaffed like a mother-"

"Stiles," Lydia snapped holding her hand up. "Just try these things on, okay?"

Stiles sighed loudly, and, alright, a little overdramatically, and stood up. He accepted the clothes, gesturing to Lydia to turn around, but she merely raised a single eyebrow, hands on her hips, and continued to stare at him. Giving up (she never actually turned away, he didn't even know why he bothered trying), he began undressing, leaving his holey jeans (from actually falling and  _not_  spending a crap load of money he could not exactly afford) and flannel/Iron Man ensemble on the floor.

Once he was dressed, tugging uncomfortably at the tight shirt, leaving the leather jacket sitting on his bed (it's too frigging warm in the apartment for a jacket) he said, "How do I look?"

Lydia appraised him for a full minute before leaving the room. Stiles took a step forward, intending to follow her, but she reappeared a moment later and promptly began attacking his hair with a wet comb.

"Lydia, what the hell?" he shouted ducking away from her, feeling water drip along his neck and trailing down his back and shoulders.

"Your hair is a complete mess, Stiles Stilinski." She sounded as if his messy hair personally insulted her, and Stiles stroked his hair, silently reassuring it that  _she_  was a nut job, and it was  _not_  to blame.

"Why would it matter?" Stiles asked dropping his hand from his hair. "My hair  _always_  looks like this, and the only time you ever care-" he trailed off, eyeing her suspiciously. "You're not trying to set me up again, are you?"

Lydia scoffed, looking down at the comb in her hand for almost a full thirty seconds, before looking up and saying, "So, there's this guy Erica knows…"

"Lydia no," Stiles whined flailing again. "The last time you set me up, I had to fend off a sex fiend all night." Yes, Stiles wanted to get laid, but not that badly; especially when the girl tried to stick her tongue down his throat twenty minutes after meeting him.  _Uh yeah, that's not happening_. "Stiles Stilinski does not put out on the first date. I'm not that type of girl." (Okay, he totally was, but no one asked so shut the hell up)

 _Wait, did I seriously just refer to myself as 'that type of girl?'_ He really needed to stop watching  _The View_  with Danny and Erica _._

"What type of girl are you?" Lydia teased quirking an eyebrow, her lips turning up in a half-smirk. "Besides, I remember when you dated Heather. You two were like bunnies from the moment you locked eyes."

"You know what I meant," Stiles grumbled crossing his arms, only to uncross them a second later. The shirt was really tight, and he feared he wouldn't be able to return it if he ripped it. "And the answer is still no."

"He'll meet you at Pete's Café in half an hour," Lydia pressed virtually ignoring Stiles.

"Lydia, didn't you even stop to consider I might have plans?"

"Please." Lydia snorted (very unlady like if anyone asked Stiles). "You haven't had actual plans in six months. You and Scott are always planted on that sofa, every Friday and Saturday night, playing Left For Duty or Call of Dead or whatever, wasting the last two years of your twenties. And I know, Scott and Allison are basically married, they tend to not go out much, and you're like their third wheel or whatever-"

"Now wait just a minute-"

"-but I don't want to see you living with them when they really  _do_  get married because, like it or not Stiles, you and Scott are going to have to cut the cord eventually."

"What does that ever mean?" Stiles grumbled recalling Scott's mother and his father saying the exact same thing when he and Scott went to college (joke's on them, Beacon Hills Community College was only two hours from Stanford so they saw each other every weekend).

"Just go on the date," Lydia said shortly, patting his chest. She gestured to the clothes still sitting on the floor. "Pick those up before you go." She then flung the comb at him, his hands flailing as he fumbled to catch it, and said, "And fix your hair."

Sardonically, Stiles called, "Thanks, Mom!" She threw him a narrowed eyed look, disappearing around the corner. Sometimes, Stiles really wished he had joined the chess team in high school. He may have sucked at the game, but at least  _those_  friends wouldn't have pried into his life.

* * *

Derek had known Erica since college. Her roommate ("I call her Mary Magdalene when she's not around") and his roommate ("I can't tell if he's actually saving the food for later or conducting experiments, and I am seriously afraid to open the mini fridge") dated for a brief period their sophomore year, and Derek found himself spending a lot of time in Erica's dorm. It was only natural they became friends. It also didn't hurt that she never tried to drag him into her life outside of their little duo, and he never tried to force her into his life ("shut up Laura, I actually  _have_  a life").

Over the years, after college, they managed to stay in touch, exchanging emails and phone calls. Derek had been invited to Erica's wedding (which he missed because he was backpacking in Europe with his sister Cora (he did send her a waffle iron)), she played a key role in keying his college girlfriend's car after she cheated on him with some math major or whatever ("seriously, she cheated on  _you?_ Has she  _seen_  you _?_ ), and she was also instrumental in getting his _last_ ex-girlfriend arrested when they found out she was actually a con artist ("maybe you should get a cat").

Recently, he had moved back to Beacon Hills to help his Uncle Peter out with his café ("because you are a  _way_  better cook than either of you sisters combined. And don't give me that look, Coraline, you burned water the last time you tried boiling it"), and reconnected with Erica. That's where he got his first glimpse into her world, meeting a slightly (okay more than slightly) terrifying red head named Lydia. He also met Erica's husband Boyd, who, in addition to being very quiet, connected with Derek on a level that Erica called 'bromantic in every way imaginable.' ("maybe one day you'll love me like Derek loves you, babe").

While he had originally planned to be married by thirty-five (hell, any long-term relationship would have sufficed), and he was still living with his sisters ("I swear to god, Der, you hog the bathroom worse than any girl I've ever dated"), and, despite living in Florida, his parents butted into his life  _way_ more than he'd have liked, he figured life could have been worse. He could be dead ("wow, scruffy, morbid much").

"I think you need to get laid," Erica announced slowly, eyes locked on her phone's screen, a feral grin on her face.

"And I think you should stop flirting with Lydia," Derek stated, deadpan, wiping down the counter. "I'm still waiting for the day you come in here and say 'it's official, Boyd has agreed to a three-way marriage.'"

Erica sighed, looking at the ring on her finger, "I'm sure Boyd wouldn't mind in the slightest if we wanted to include someone else."

"Lydia?"

"Or you? I'm not too picky." She gave him a small, flirty smile before glancing at her phone again. He rolled his eyes, ducking under the counter to grab a plastic tub. He left her to her texting, moving around the café, collecting plates from empty tables.

When he returned, Erica had put her phone away, eyeing him appraisingly. He cocked an eyebrow, a little wary. "What?"

"Are you busy tonight?"

"You're seriously  _not_  considering…?"

"No," Erica responded with a smirk, "but maybe at our ten year anniversary." Her smile grew when he turned away from her, dumping the tub in a cart. He turned back, huffing when he saw Erica appraising him again.

"What?"

"Are you busy?" she repeated expectantly, tapping a blood red fingernail against the counter.

"What do you think?" he retorted reaching under the counter again, grabbing the big containers of salt and pepper.

"That's a no," Erica commented under her breath and Derek scoffed, rolling his eyes. He left the salt and pepper on the counter, moving around the diner, collecting salt and pepper shakers.

"Why?" he asked carefully, carrying the shakers back to the counter.

"Well, you're shift ends in like, what, thirty minutes? Give or take?"

She was being evasive, Derek hated when he she did that, but he still sighed tiredly, humoring her. "Yeah, Erica, I get off in thirty minutes. Why?"

"How would you feel about sticking around for, say, an hour or two afterward? Maybe setting out a couple of those left over sandwiches, possibly some left over ice tea-"

"Wait." Derek looked up from refilling salt shakers, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you trying to set me up on a date?"

"There's this guy…"

Scoffing, Derek returned to filling salt shakers, shaking his head. "I'm not meeting some stranger because you think I need to 'get laid.' If I wanted a date, I'd find my own."

"But you haven't," Erica pointed out leaning back in her seat. "It's been almost a year since What's-Her-Face…"

"Jennifer," Derek supplied under his breath. Or was it Julia? He still didn't quite  _know_  what her real name was, hadn't taken the time to ask the police officer when she was hauled off in cuffs, but Erica did tell him she was wanted in five states.

"And you didn't date for  _nearly_  six years after Cheaty McSkank Whore."

"Kate," Derek murmured even quieter, concentrating a bit harder on his task than necessary. He hated talking about Kate. While Jennifer was just a fling, someone he could love but probably wouldn't have made a future with, he had actually thought Kate was forever. As sad as it may sound, he had actually started planning a future around Kate (wedding, a house, kids; the whole nine yards). Her cheating on him was worse than his high school girlfriend, Paige, leaving him for some tuba player ("he understands me in a way you just can't, Der. I'm sorry").

Erica gently gripped his wrist, halting his hand mid-pour, and softly said, "Don't let two bad relationships stop you from finding the right one. I mean, you might actually like this guy."

"I've only ever been with one guy," Derek murmured when Erica let him go, "and you know how  _that_ turned out."

"You cannot count Jackson," Erica argued quite loudly. "He was a rebound. A willing participant in an attempt to make your miserable ass happy after CMW fucked you over."

"Stop nicknaming my exes," Derek muttered darkly.

Erica smirked, pulling her phone from her bag, checking the time, and stood. "He's going to be here in fifteen minutes. You might want to fix your hair." She collected her bag, blew him a kiss, and walked out of the diner, calling over her shoulder, "Try smiling a bit, Der. Scaring people isn't a turn on."

The door closed behind her, cutting off any retort Derek may or may not have had, and he sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. Leave it to Erica to schedule a date  _right_  when his shift ended so he couldn't back out. He had very little doubt that Lydia helped; those two were like Laura times fifty. Thank God those three didn't spend too much time together otherwise Derek's life would be a complete clusterfuck of busy body women.

He returned to filling salt shakers, listening to the clock ticking above him, moving onto the pepper once the last salt shaker was capped. He was about mid-way through the pepper, wondering how much shit Erica ( _and_  Lydia) would give him if he didn't acknowledge the guy and let him think he'd been stood up, when the door opened.

Derek kept his eyes on the pepper shaker, figuring it was Cora coming to bug him like she normally did after her last class, knowing he still had ten minutes before his 'date' showed, but he froze when he heard someone clear their throat.  _Not Cora, definitely_ _not_ _Cora._

Slowly, Derek looked up, meeting a pair of bright brown, Bambi eyes. They belonged to a guy, most likely a few years younger than Derek. His skin was milky, white with moles splattered across his face, and his unruly chestnut hair looked as if he tried combing it but just gave up. In a way, and if Derek were being completely honest, he sort of resembled Paige.

The guy, having yet to say anything, was taking his sweet ass time letting his eyes rake up and down Derek's body, a soft, "Wow," falling from his lips. Derek barely held a snort at bay, his eyes going heavenward.

"Can I help you?" he asked sharply, crossing his arms defensively. He  _knew_  what he looked like, sometimes he could almost hear the lust filled thoughts from some of the customers, and he hated being objectified.

"What?" the guy shook his head, looking up to meet Derek's eyes, his face turning pink. "Um, I, um…" he drew in a deep breath, trying again. "I'm just waiting for someone, and…" he fought to keep from checking Derek out again, taking a seat on the stool Erica had occupied barely five minutes ago. "Can I just get a menu?"

Derek pointed at the stand, full of menus, and the guy flushed again. He grabbed one, hiding his face behind it, mumbling some Neon Tree song (and the only reason Derek knew the song was because of Cora). Derek glanced at the clock, the guy's thirty minutes officially up.

He debated giving the guy ten more minutes, but he seriously did not feel like sticking around any longer than he had to; of course, he couldn't  _exactly_  leave until Bambi Eyes left. The guy in question looked up from his menu, checking his watch, and sighed heavily, glancing back at the menu again. It seemed his… whatever was late, too… unless this guy was  _his_  date.

Derek took a moment to study him closely. He wasn't bad looking, Laura would call him adorable. He had long, spindly fingers that were constantly moving, tapping against the edge of the menus, drumming on the counter; Cora would call him twitchy and nervous. He was lanky, but toned, his shirt one of those form fitting ones Erica liked to buy Derek ("stop hiding your muscles, Der. If I had a body like yours, I'd proudly show it off"). Though, by the way he kept tugging at the shirt, he was not used to wearing clothes that tight. He seemed about Derek's height when standing, maybe an inch or two shorter, and seemed to blush fairly easily. Derek had had worse dates; he could probably spend an hour with him.

It wouldn't hurt to ask if this guy knew Erica, just to be on the safe side, and if he didn't then Derek could the hell out and never have to see the guy again. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Bambi Eyes scoffed and grumbled, "Fucking Lydia."

"Lydia Martin?" Derek asked before he could stop himself.

"What?" the guy's eyes snapped to Derek's face, warily eyeing him. "You know Lydia Martin?"

"Not well," Derek admitted. "She's friends with my friend Erica."

"Reyes?"

Derek nodded, and he watched as Bambi Eyes put the menu down, his face a mess of conflicting emotions, but eventually he settled on disbelief. "What the hell Lydia," he whispered pulling his phone from his pocket. He sent a quick text, after snapping a photo of Derek, surprising him.

"I can't believe this," he whispered putting his phone down.

"What's wrong?" Derek felt a little defensive. They had  _just_  met, this guy knew nothing about Derek, so why was he already acting like their potential date was the worst mistake he'd ever made?

"Nothing," Bambi Eyes replied softly, meeting Derek's eyes briefly. He glanced down as his phone buzzed, reading the text message. His face turned bright red and he said, "I seem to have been wrong."

"About?"

"I, um, well you see…" he ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, his whiskey eyes trying to bore a whole in the counter. "Have you  _seen_  you?" Derek rolled his eyes, already less interested in the date. Why did it always boil down to his looks? "I mean, you look like  _that_ ," Bambi Eyes gestured at Derek, "and  _I_  look like this. I just…" he stood up, throwing his hands in the air. "I cannot deal with this right now."

Before Derek could call him back, Bambi Eyes rushed towards the door, tripping over a chair, catching himself on the edge of a table. He muttered a curse, clutching the table a bit tighter, before finally letting go and continuing towards the door, walking outside.

Waiting several moments, Derek finally pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He hit four on speed dial, waiting for Erica to pick up, managing to get her voicemail. "Yeah, hey, thanks for setting me up with a complete psycho." He then hung up, sighing in frustration, dragging a hand through his hair.

_Fucking Erica._

* * *

 

Stiles found himself outside Pete's Café, holding a white box, wishing he were anywhere else. Erica had screamed at him last night, until she could barely speak, demanding he apologize to Derek (so apparently the ungodly hot, 'no way could  _Stiles_ land that' guy that worked at Pete's Café was named Derek; who knew?) while Lydia called him an idiot.

Stiles did not really  _want_  to be there, did not want to see this Derek again. He wanted to keep what little dignity he had, but he chose to surround himself with strong, independent, intimidating women, and he just could not say no to them no matter how hard he tried.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed the café's door open, stopping short when a female looked up from the counter. She smiled brightly and said, "Hi, um, I'm new, so I'm not sure if you're a regular or..."

"I'm not," Stiles answered shaking his head. Yesterday had been the first time he'd ever stepped foot inside Pete's Café, preferring to get his coffee at The Coffee Pit down the block from his apartment. "Is Derek here?"

"Oh," the girl frowned, glancing over her shoulder. "He's in back, but I don't…" she looked a little scared, obviously  _not_  finding Derek as delicious as Stiles did ( _and seriously, brain, stop it_ ). "Should I get him?"

Before Stiles could answer, Derek backed out of the back, carrying a tray of brownies. Stiles took a moment to appreciate the view (the brownies of course, not the guy's butt because he  _definitely_  did not check out his butt), but his moment was ruined when Derek turned around and frowned, his pale eyes settling on Stiles' face.

"Kira, put these in the display case," he said, setting the brownies down on the counter. The girl nodded readily, nearly tripping over her feet as she started forward. He turned his attention back to Stiles and said, "Did you forget something yesterday?"

"Uh, no," Stiles said quickly, waving the white box in the air. "I've come to apologize for yesterday."

"It's forgotten," Derek muttered turning away from Stiles, already heading back towards the kitchen.

"Wait," Stiles called and Derek stopped, his shoulders tensing. "Come on, I brought cake." Slowly, Derek turned, eyeing Stiles cautiously. "It's really good cake," the younger man pressed, waving the box again. "Red velvet with German chocolate frosting; Erica told me it was your favorite."

With a sigh (a little over dramatic if anyone asked Stiles), Derek walked around the counter and towards Stiles. Knowing that leering at the guy could very well get him a restraining order, Stiles busied himself with putting the cake box on a table, opening the top.

"Happy Birthday?" Derek asked softly, eyebrows furrowed. "It's  _not_  my birthday."

"I know," Stiles replied nodding, "but I figured having 'I'm Sorry For Running Out On Our Date Yesterday Can You Please Accept This Cake So Erica Will Stop Trying To Remove My Liver' written on the cake would look too weird. Besides, the lady behind the counter told me it was too long."

Derek snorted, shaking his head. He headed back towards the counter, leaning forward to grab a knife, and returned to Stiles' side a second later. He held the knife out, no doubt expecting Stiles to cut the cake (and seriously, he  _brought_  the cake. Why the hell did he have to cut it, too). When the younger man accepted the proffered knife, Derek moved back to the counter, returning with three plates and forks.

"I'm not kidding about Erica," Stiles said slicing into the cake. "She said something about you needing someone normal in your life, and I was all like 'You expect me to be normal? Have you met me?' and she was all like 'Stiles you were the one bitching about needing to get laid.' And I was like 'Boyd really needs to stop telling you things.'" Stiles trailed off, realizing he was saying  _way_  too much, and cleared his throat, placing a slice of cake on the top plate. "So, I, uh, yeah. Here." He handed the plate to Derek, busying himself with cutting another slice.

"You talk a lot," Derek pointed out, surprisingly blunt (okay, maybe  _not_  that surprising. He looked like someone who said what was on his mind), digging his fork into the cake.

"I won't apologize for it," Stiles retorted glancing up at Derek briefly. The older man rolled his eyes, taking a bite of the cake. The noise he made almost undid Stiles, but he forced himself not to react. He wasn't sixteen anymore, and him losing it would be embarrassing. Instead, he placed another slice of cake on a second plate, grabbed a fork, and carried it over to Kira.

"T-thank you," she said taking the cake. Stiles turned, intending to head back to the table, but Kira called, "Wait! There isn't any nuts in this is there?"

"I, uh, I don't know," Stiles admitted shrugging. "Probably not, but I'd suggest you not eat it until you're sure." She nodded, putting the plate down, and returned to filling the display case.

He returned to the table, a slice of cake waiting for him, Derek leaning against the table, digging into his second piece. Stiles turned a chair around, straddling it, and grabbed the plate. He sunk his fork into the cake, sliding it into his mouth, eyes going heavenward as the two flavors interacted with his tongue. He had been skeptical about this type of cake, but now he understood why this Derek dude liked it.

He opened his eyes, noting the strange look Derek was giving him, and said, "What? It's better than I expected." Derek huffed, shaking his head, taking another bite of cake. The two ate in relative silence, less uncomfortable than Stiles thought it'd be, but finally his ADHD caught up to him and Stiles said, "So, how long have you known Erica?"

Derek was quiet for a full minute, finishing his cake, but finally he placed his plate on the table and said, "Since college; our roommates sorta dated."

"Ah." Stiles nodded, digging his finger into the frosting. He licked the gooey, chocolate off his appendage, blatantly ignoring the way Derek's eyes tracked him. "I've known her since high school, but I've only been friends with her for like seven years." And, just because he felt like it, he added, "I think she's trying to convince Boyd to have a polygamous relationship with Lydia."

"You noticed, too?" Derek questioned forcing his eyes away from Stiles' mouth, meeting the younger guy's eyes.

"I'm actually surprised it hasn't happened yet," Stiles commented and Derek smirked, sinking into a seat across from him, clearly more interested in the conversation now that they had something in common. It seemed Erica and Lydia were getting what they wanted after all.

* * *

As dates go, Derek had had worse. He didn't feel like shoving a fork through Stiles' eye, that was a plus, and he actually had a good time. But Stiles eventually had to head back to work, and the lunch crowd was pouring in so Derek would be needed soon (Kira still had trouble _not_ breaking plates), so their impromptu date had to come to an end.

"I had fun," Stiles commented sounding slightly surprised, a smile on his face.

"Me too," Derek responded walking Stiles to the door, deciding to ignore the younger guy's tone. "Maybe we could…"

"…do it again?" they said together, laughing softly. "I'd like that," Stiles said with a shrug. "You're not what I expected, Derek Hale."

"And what did you expect?" Derek asked curiously, opening the door for Stiles. With a small smirk, not answering Derek's question, Stiles waved and walked away.

Derek most certainly did not (okay he totally did) check him out.


	2. The L-Word Conundrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, this is for GeeGollyWiz13 because she asked for another chapter. I'd write more, but I don't know if you guys would want this to turn into anything more, so I'll just leave it at this.
> 
> Thanks for reading the last chapter, you guys are really cool, and thanks for those who took the time to review.
> 
> Leave me a comment if you can and I don't own anything.
> 
> Bye!!!

Stiles had only ever been in two serious relationships (and had several flings that he'd much rather forget), but he'd never actually been in love with either partner. Heather was too physical and didn't want their relationship to go anywhere; while Matt was just too controlling and kept too tight of a hold on Stiles to be considered healthy. The only person he had ever been remotely in love with had been Lydia, and even then it wasn't the lasting 'going to be together forever, married with a kid someday' love. It was more like a 'love me like I love you because I love you please love me' type love.

It was too needy, a type of love that wouldn't have lasted because Stiles kept Lydia on a pedestal. He had refused to see all her bad qualities, finding excuses for each one, and otherwise ignoring anyone who tried to tell him she could be a hard ass (because, even after all these years, he still refused to associate her with the b to the itch word). Only after becoming friends with her, and seeing just how terrifying she actually was (not to mention the fact that, like everyone else, she had problems, too), did he realize the love he felt for her was more healthy as a friendship than a romantic relationship. In fact, that's how he felt about all his partners (except Matt because, seriously, fuck that guy).

Then along came Derek.

After two months, Stiles had discovered several things about Derek. He was not a morning person, needing at least three cups of coffee to function (rivaling Stiles' four and a half). He favored baseball and basketball over football ("I understand baseball, seriously I do, but basketball? Really"). He was a blanket hog ("Says the Bed-to-pus"). He was a huge book nerd ("Half these authors I can't even pronounce"). He built model cars in his spare time ("You're the king of nerdy, Der-Bear"). He didn't watch TV, his favorite movie was Princess Bride ("Fezzik speaks to me on a spiritual level"), and his favorite band was Alice In Chains ("Rooster has one of the best beginnings and you cannot tell me otherwise").

They argued over food, movies, radio stations, but never seriously. They bantered back and forth, nitpicked about each other's habits, were called sickeningly cute on more than one occasion ("Shut up, Scott. Don't forget I was around during Scallison: The Early Years"), and Stiles suspected Derek may or may not be secretly moving in with him ("That's a crock of shit, dude. Half your stuff is no longer in your room" "Have you seen his bathroom, Scott? It has a steam shower in it").

They were far from perfect, nowhere near the 'oh my god, I wish we were as cute as Allison and Scott,' and Derek was terrible at video games while Stiles tried and failed at sports. But Stiles wouldn't want it any other way. He was also hopelessly, unconditionally, irrevocably (and a shit ton of other big 'no one uses these words because they don't, but Twilight seems to use them a lot' words) in love with Derek. The problem, Stiles couldn't find the right time to say it.

"I mean, how hard is it to look him in the eye and say 'Derek, I love you please don't ever leave me or I'll cry?'" Stiles asked, hanging upside down off the couch, mashing buttons on his controller, headset dangling off his head. "Well, I won't add the last part, but the first part I will definitely say."

" _Dude, I don't care,"_  Isaac whined running past him, firing at a group of bad guys.

"Well, Scott isn't home, and I need to talk about it with someone," Stiles said throwing a grenade at someone who may or may not be on their team. Yelling told Stiles they were, in fact, on his team, and he shouted, "Well, maybe if you actually did something instead of standing around that wouldn't have happened!" He quickly chased after Isaac, saying, "I mean, I do love him, and I'm pretty sure he loves me, too."

" _Then why hasn't_ _he_ _said it_?" Isaac asked sounding as if he regretted saying anything.

"Well, it's probably because his first girlfriend left him for a tuba player when they started getting serious. His second girlfriend cheated on him when they started getting serious. Him and Jackson…"

" _Wait, Whittemore_?" Isaac's character turned to Stiles, and he imagined the blond's eyes wide with shock. " _I didn't even know Jackson was into guys?"_

"Mr. Everyone Is My Type? Seriously, you never knew he liked dudes? I mean, him and Danny were constantly on and off in high school in between his break ups with Lydia. Jackson would date anyone who found him remotely hot."

" _Except you?"_  Isaac teased.

"Pfft, Jackson's looks are the only thing he has going for him. His personality is crap, his attitude needs an adjustment, and have you seen him on a date? For someone with money, he doesn't particularly like to pay the bill. Both Lydia and Danny will tell you that."

_"So, Derek and Jackson_ …"

"Oh, well, Jackson started out as a rebound, but then Derek wanted more and…"

" _They broke up_ ," Stiles and Isaac said together, and Stiles nodded.

"Then there was the Jennifer/Julia fiasco…"

" _So, pretty much Derek is afraid to say I love you because you might leave him_ ," Isaac said slowly, blowing a whole in a wall, " _so you want to be the first to say it so he knows you're in it for the long haul. Is that what you're saying?"_

"Yes," Stiles responded a little surprised.

" _What? I listen_ ," Isaac said a little defensively.

"I know. It's just Scott usually nods a lot and then asks for the chips."

" _Well, I'm not Scott_." Isaac threw a smoke bomb into the room, running in a second later and firing at the players scrambling around. " _So, what's the problem? What's stopping you from saying it?"_

"Timing," Stiles said knifing a guy. "Every time I try he either gets shanghaied into an extra shift at the café or another case is tossed onto my desk or his sister Laura walks into his room, plops onto the bed between us, and immediately starts talking about her wedding or her baby. We haven't had any time alone in a week, and I am seriously starting to feel neglected," he heard Isaac snort, "but that's  _not_  the point. The point…"

" _Dude,_ _just_ _say it,"_  Isaac interrupted sneak attacking a lone person, shoving a knife in his back. " _Just grab his face, keep him from looking away, and say 'I love you. Let's get gay married and have gay babies and live gaily ever after, amen."_

"Gaily ever after?"

_"That's how Erica purposed to Boyd. Except, intead of gay, she said stupid."_

"Why?"

" _Because she's Erica_ ," Isaac replied going down in a blaze of bullets. Stiles followed soon after, the screen announcing he had died, and he ran a hand through his hair, sitting up. Everything spun around him, his head feeling too heavy for his body as his blood rushed from his brain. " _Look, I need to get to work soon, but good talk."_

"Oh, yes, the best," Stiles retorted sarcastically and shut the game system off, pulling his headset off his head. He tossed both controller and headset on the rickety, milk crate/plywood coffee table. He stood up, stretching his arms over his head, feeling his bones pop back into place.

Isaac didn't know what he was talking about; Stiles couldn't  _just_  say it. It had to be special, something he and Derek would be able to tell their kids about in the future. Something that would make everyone would go 'aw' and then Stiles could be like 'don't guys, stop, it wasn't that cute. Okay, maybe it was, keep going.' It had to happen that way because of reasons. And  _no,_  Stiles did not sound crazy, so shut up.

His cell phone buzzed, startling him, and he picked it up off the makeshift coffee table. A scrunchy nosed Derek flashed back at him, Stiles having taken the picture while Laura was describing the 'joys' of childbirth ("Seriously, Laur, we don't need to know about the mucus plug or whatever, please stop"). "The light of my life," Stiles answered, smiling.

" _My pain in the ass_ ," Derek replied a small smirk in his voice. And  _no,_ those nicknames were not what they had themselves under in their phones (alright they were, but it's not anyone's business but their own). " _I have a question… okay, more like a favor to ask you."_

"Is it a sexual favor?" Stiles joked sitting on the arm of the couch.

" _No."_ Derek sounded appalled, so whatever the favor was had something to do with his family. Stiles should have known. " _Uh, my folks are coming back to town for the week…"_

"Ah, meeting the parents. Are you sure it's the right time?" Stiles teased slowly swinging his foot back and forth, knocking his heel against the couch. "I mean, it's not like you haven't met my dad…"

" _Shut up,"_ Derek said fondly.  _"Look, I just_ …" he sighed, running a hand through his hair. " _My mother wants to meet you, since Laura talks about you more than anyone else (including her fiancé and unborn daughter), but if you don't want to…_ "

"I do want to," Stiles said quickly, cutting Derek off. "I really, really do."

" _Oh, well, good. So, I'll come get you tonight, around seven-thirty. Wear whatever you'd like..."_

"So, my assless chaps?"

Derek dropped the phone, a slew of swear words following, and Stiles started laughing. A second later, he heard a cough and Derek say, " _Uh, I don't think_ …"

_"_ Oh my God, Grumpy. I do  _not_  own assless chaps." Stiles laughed harder, nearly falling off the couch.

" _I, uh, I know. I just…"_

"Stop picturing me in assless chaps, Derek."

" _I'm_ _not!"_ _  
_

_"_ Yes you are, and I can practically  _feel_  you blushing." Stiles grinned, shaking his head. This would be the perfect time to tell Derek, just three simple words, but instead Stiles said, "So, I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah."

They ended the call, and Stiles slid off the couch's arm, landing on his side across the cushions, cursing himself for not taking the opportunity when he had the chance. What the  _fuck_  was wrong with him? To top it all off, he was now meeting Derek's parents tonight; what happened if they asked about future plans? Or if he loved their son? Was telling Derek in front of his sisters and parents and his uncle (his Uncle Peter who both intrigued and terrified Stiles, and just why the hell does he surround himself with people like that?) the best option?

Because it really didn't seem that way to Stiles.

* * *

 

Beacon Hills only had one fancy restaurant in town (and by fancy it just meant someone seated them). It was owned by some dude who lived in L.A. and only came down to check things over once a month. It also was the last place Stiles ate because he couldn't exactly afford it. Being a lawyer in a small town wasn't exactly the best way to bring in the dough. But Derek's parents picked there to eat, so Stiles just hoped it had a very cheap appetizer menu.

Talia Hale was exactly what he expected her to be; intriguing and intimidating, but she also had that maternal aura that most mom's had, the one that always made Stiles miss his own mom, and it took all he had not to hug her. It would have been a little weird, and Stiles tended to keep his weirdness to a minimum until he'd known his partner's parents for at least a few months.

Nathan Hale was the exact opposite of what he expected. He thought he'd meet someone a lot like Derek, subtly worried about his family while masking it with a permanent scowl, but instead he was a lot like Laura. Or, well, Laura was a lot like him. He fussed over the state of Cora's combat boots ("Seriously, honey, the shoelaces don't even match"), asked Derek if he had updated his prescription yet ("it doesn't hurt to keep up on your eyes, kiddo"), and started pulling pamphlets out of nowhere, seriously the guy didn't even have a messenger bag, full of information on the best daycares for Laura's baby ("I know she's not due for another few months, but it doesn't hurt to be prepared").

"So, Stiles," Talia said once they were all seated and their orders were taken. "What do you do?"

Stiles looked up from the piece of bread he had been nervously shredding, meeting Talia's eyes. "I, uh, I am a lawyer. Or, well, more like an associate, for the small law firm down town. It's not the most glamorous job, we mostly deal with very low profile cases, you know like property stuff between neighbors and the occasional accident. We don't deal with murders or anything…" He trailed off, realizing he had said  _way_  too much, and lamely mumbled, "It's not as fun as it sounds."

He returned to his bread shredding, his face burning red, his heart slamming against his chest. Derek's parents probably hated him, and he wouldn't blame them. He was spastic and talked too much and played too many video games and was twenty-seven and still a bit of a manchild. He shouldn't even be dating someone like Derek who was all adult-i-tude and didn't get into arguments about comic book characters with Erica at three in the morning because he couldn't sleep, and she was taking photos for rich, entitled people, proving that their spouses were no good. He shouldn't be in love with someone like that because he didn't deserve it. He should just leave, go home, and hide under his bed until he learned how to adult.

He felt a hand settle on his knee, squeezing it, and he looked up to see Derek giving him a small, encouraging smile. It was a smile that radiated more love than any words could possibly say, and Stiles smiled back. The warmth from his hand also grounded him and Stiles felt his anxieties slip away. He looked up from his bread and asked, "So, what do you do?"

The Hales exchanged a quick look before turning back to Stiles and smiling. Afterwards, dinner went pretty well and Stiles' shredded bread lay abandoned for the rest of the night.

On the ride home, some top forty song softly playing from the speakers, Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek's and softly said, "I love you."

Derek was quiet for a full minute, Stiles momentarily afraid he wasn't going to say it back, forcing himself to keep his eyes locked on the windshield, but his stomach unclenched when Derek whispered, "I love you, too." Stiles glanced over at him, noting the way Derek had visibly relaxed, and squeezed the older man's hand.

He then let it go and turned the radio up, flicking through the channels until he found a Queen song playing from a classic rock station. Stiles looked over at Derek and sang, "' _Bicycle, Bicycle, Bicycle.'"_

Stiles was almost certain Derek wasn't going to sing with him, so he was surprised when Derek softly said, " _'I want to ride my...'"_

"' _Bicycle, Bicycle, Bicycle,"_ they sang together, and Stiles could honestly say it was one of the best nights of his life.


	3. The Valentine's Day Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a quick Valentine's Day gift to everyone and a way to say thanks to those who are reading this story. I hope you guys have/had a great February 14th doing whatever it is you did.
> 
> Bye!!

Derek had never been very good at being romantic ("understatement, baby bro" "shut up, Laura"). He didn't buy flowers just because; he wasn't going to show up randomly at his partner's office with lunch just for an excuse to have a quickie. He hated making a spectacle, had always hated it, and sometimes thought that was the main reason Paige dumped him in high school.

He tried a little, with Kate, but she clearly wanted sex with someone, as she eloquently put it, 'hot as fuck that looked good in tight jeans.' And he made a bit more of an effort with Jennifer, but that proved to be a complete and utter failure on his part (not because he tried, but because of the fact that she and her wild, 'shoes are for the devil' girlfriend Kali were trying to scam him out of every cent he had). And with Jackson, well, as Erica had pointed out on several occasions, he did not count.

But with Stiles, Derek  _wanted_  to make an effort. He wanted to show Stiles that he actually mattered, that they were more than just a couple of guys playing house. So, he tried and he tried and he tried.

At first, it was little things. He forced himself to get up before Stiles, drive to The Coffee Pit (a good eight or nine blocks out of his way) to get the younger guy's preferred coffee and a bag full of pastries ("stop bringing those  _things_  home, Derek, they're too dry. You make them much better"), just so he could have breakfast before heading into work. Stiles put a stop to  _that_  quickly, telling Derek no amount of coffee and pastries were worth getting up at five in the morning ("nothing is. Unless it's morning sex, and even then you'd better be prepared for me to just lay there").

He also tried playing video games. It was something he'd never actually did as a kid ("did you ever tell Stiles about the blanket forts you used to make? Oh my god, he one time spent an entire summer living in one. I'm not even sure he used the bathroom like a normal…"), so he was beyond terrible. He even asked Isaac (who actually wasn't as bad as Derek thought he'd be) to teach him to play, but Isaac gave him up as a lost cause ("you can't teach an old dog new tricks, and you definitely cannot teach an old dude how to play Grand Theft Auto" "Shut up, I'm not  _that_  much older than you").

Another thing he tried was watching Stiles' favorite shows, but after three episodes of Doctor Who Derek was even more confused than when he started watching the show ("stop trying to apply logic to the show, Der. It'll just give you a headache"), and he wasn't quite sure what was going on in Supernatural, but that angel dude and the hunter were either secretly in love or the actors were fucking with the fans ("Gah, no, just no. I'm not explaining shipping to you. Just no"). Although, Derek did enjoy Sherlock, but Stiles kept ruining the ending to the episodes ("oh man, this is the part where Moriarty… Gah! Did you seriously just shove an ice cube down my shirt?"), and it sucked royal ass that there were only three episodes per season ("that's it?" "Yep, now we until we're old, gray, and wearing Depends for the new season. I say we stock up now, so we don't run the risk of running out. I'm sure Scott will supply the prunes").

Derek also tried to get into Stiles' music, but he gave up after three minutes. He couldn't quite figure out what the fox was saying, but it definitely did not sound like any fox he'd ever heard. In fact, the only small gesture he succeeded at was reading the books Stiles preferred since Derek had already read ninety percent of them ("Did you read 50 Shades of Gray for science, too?" "What?" "Never mind").

After failing on the small scale, Derek decided to try grander gestures, which was why he was standing in Hallmark on February the twelfth, scanning the remaining cards, listening to a woman bicker with someone on her cell phone while her child swung off her arm, singing a crude song quite loudly.

"Children are disgusting," Cora commented glaring at the little boy. He looked back at her, eyes wide and blank, unblinking, and she scoffed. "I'm not playing this game with you, kid. I teach high school English, you have nothing on…" he sneezed, mouth uncovered, spraying her hand with his spit and snot.

"No," Derek said catching her wrist, stopping her before she could attack the smug boy. "The last thing you need is to go to jail for hurting a kid."

"He'd deserve it," she snarled glaring at the boy. He was no longer paying attention to Cora, his attention now on an elderly man. "Just let me jab him in the head, just once, knock him out…" People were starting to give Cora strange, wary looks, so Derek dragged her away, down a relatively empty aisle.

"Just help me pick a card," he said gesturing to the choices.

She sighed, throwing one, final glare at the devil child's aisle, and looked over the cards. Cora picked up one, giving it a displeased look, before turning to Derek and saying, "These are all crap."

"Don't sugarcoat it," Derek muttered picking up a card with a cat on it. "I should have brought Laura."

"Oh, yes, Ms Hormones. I'm sure between constantly crying over every single 'cute' fleabag, and getting angry over the outrageous prices you'd have a hell of a time,' Cora retorted sarcastically, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"Why are you so cynical?"

"Because Mom made me wear dresses when I was a kid."

Derek snorted, shaking his head. He replaced the cat card, grabbing one with a cartoon bunny on it. "I just, I want to do something special for Stiles. It's our first Valentine's Day…"

"Derek, it's a Hallmark holiday. What makes Valentine's Day any more special than any other day? I mean, I can buy a fucking card tomorrow, next week, next month and it'd symbolize the exact same thing buying one the fourteenth would symbolize; a big ass steaming pile of bullshit!"

"I take it you're not celebrating this holiday with anyone," Derek commented ignoring the stares his sister was probably getting. Cora didn't seem to care, she never did, and it had been a huge mistake to even attempt to get her help. He ushered his sister towards the door, figuring it was best just to come back later, or never. Never was good, too.

* * *

 

"Did he say he wanted to do something special for tomorrow?" Boyd asked curiously, easily keeping pace with Derek, the steady drone of the treadmills almost relaxing in a way.

"No, but I just..." Derek trailed off, fiddling with the buttons on his treadmill. "What are you and Erica doing?"

"Erica doesn't  _like_  Valentine's Day," Boyd replied shrugging. "We usually just get an ice cream cake and sit around eating it in between sex breaks."

"Classy," Derek murmured sarcastically, slowing the treadmill enough so he could step off. He switched it off, grabbing his towel. He wiped his face, waiting for Boyd to join him, and the two guys headed towards the weights.

"Hey, it might not be dinner at some fancy ass place with shitty food, but it works for us."

"I know, and I'm sorry." Derek began adding weights to the barbell while Boyd laid down on the bench. "What kind of ice…?" Derek shook his head, dismissing the idea. "Maybe I should take him to that club; you know the one that just opened. He's wanted to go to it, but he's been too busy and I'm not going without him."

"Codependent much?" Boyd joked smirking up at Derek.

"Shut up," Derek grumbled allowing Boyd to lift the barbell, hands hovering just in case he needed to remove the bar from Boyd's chest. "Do you think he'll like the club?"

Boyd was quiet for a while, finishing his reps. He replaced the barbell, slowly sitting up, and said, "Stop stressing out about this. He'll like wherever you take him  _because_  you'll be there with him."

"Yeah," Derek muttered nodding. "But…"

"I give up." Boyd threw his hands in the air, gesturing to the bench. "Why don't you ask Erica?"

"Because she's worse than you at this stuff."

"What about Lydia?"

"She always gives me this half mocking, half sympathetic look and it feels like she's judging me."

"That's because she is," Boyd said and Derek reluctantly nodded, laying on the bench. "Okay, so Erica is out, so is Lydia. Who do we know who knows Stiles better than anyone?"

Boyd and Derek shared a quick look and said, "Scott."

* * *

 

"I didn't know you had a cat," Scott said leading Derek to the examination room in back of the vet's office, gesturing to the metal exam table. He turned to grab a pair of gloves, pulling them on over his hands.

"I don't," Derek lied placing the carrier on the table. "She's my sister's." Scott didn't need to know that he had gotten Sylvia Cat after his breakup with Jennifer. Erica didn't even know he had a cat since he had convinced her that it was just a stray that wouldn't leave because Cora started feeding it. It was mostly because he couldn't take the smug looks Erica would give him if she knew he had taken her advice.

In fact, the only one who knew Sylvia was his, besides Cora and Laura (and they didn't count because he lived with them) was Stiles. And that's mostly because Sylvia liked him  _way_  better than Derek.

"What's wrong with her?" Scott asked opening the carrier, coaxing the gray tabby out with his finger.

"Her shots are due," Derek answered slapping his cat's paperwork on the exam table. He usually took Sylvia to the vet's office a few towns away, but his usual vet couldn't help Derek. "And I wanted to ask you something."

"Dude, I'm not helping you spice up your sex life," Scott said without looking up from his examination.

"What? No." Derek shook his head, giving Scott an incredulous look.

"Look, Boyd told Erica who told Isaac who told me that you are freaking out over tomorrow. And I, for one, am not having sex with you and Stiles. I love the guy, I do, but  _not_  that much. And you, while not that bad looking for a dude, are just not my type. Too much D for my taste."

"That's not…" Derek shook his head. "Why are you under the impression we want to have a threesome with you?"

"That's what Erica told Isaac." Scott looked up, his eyebrows furrowing, face turning red with embarrassment, betrayal flickering in his eyes. "Isaac lied to me?"

"No, I think Erica lied to him," Derek assured the younger man, making a mental note to replace the sugar in her coffee with salt. "Look, I just… Did Stiles say anything about tomorrow? Like does he want something special to happen?"

"My mom and his dad to get married," Scott replied shrugging, returning to Sylvia's exam. The cat, for her part, just kind of laid there. She did that a lot, and sometimes Derek wondered if she was depressed, much like the woman she was named after. Could cats commit suicide?

"…but it's just, as awesome as it'd be to be brothers with Stiles, I'm not sure my mom wants to get married again. And Stiles' dad still wears his wedding… Are you even listening to me?" Derek started, glancing over at Scott, nodding his head. The younger man gave him a skeptical look, but still continued, "Look, just get Stiles like two large orders of curly fries and a twelve pack of root beer. He's not exactly the hardest person to please."

"Curly fries and root beer?"

"Or grape soda. It really doesn't matter much with him. He'd even be happy with McNuggets and a case of Yoo-hoo. Food always works with Stiles. When we were ten he wanted to live in a cheese house, and had proceeded to try and build one, but the cheese melted and his backyard smelled like feet for a month."

"So food? Just take him to dinner and let him eat whatever he wants?"

"Sure," Scott answered nodding, finishing Sylvia's exam. He gave the tabby her shots and then placed her back in the carrier, closing the door. "Dude, what's wrong with your sister's cat? It seems you need to get her a psy _cat_ atrist" Scott laughed at his joke, clutching the table, and Derek took that as his cue to leave.

* * *

 

"What are you making?" Kira asked curiously, peeking into the kitchen, clutching her apron in her hands.

"Chicken nuggets," Derek replied without looking at her, opening the oven to check the nuggets. "Why are you still here? Don't you have plans tonight?" he turned, giving her a questioning look, trying to learn more about her life ("seriously, Derek, she's the only employee Peter makes you work with, it wouldn't hurt to get to know her").

"I, um." she fumbled with her apron, no doubt surprised he bothered asking, dropping it on the floor. Stooping down, her face red, she quickly picked it up. "I don't."

"Why not?"

"I just don't," she replied shrugging. "I mean, there is this one guy I like, but he has a girlfriend so it probably wouldn't go anywhere." She looked up quickly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Not that I think about it much or anything. I just…" Kira trailed off, scratching her nose. "So, are those for Stiles?"

"Yes." Derek nodded, moving away from the oven. "His friend Scott told me to make him food. It doesn't seem like enough to me, but I can't think what else to do for him."

"Did you ever think about doing something to say 'I'm in this for as long as possible'? Like something unexpected." His face must have done something because Kira quickly said, "Not like marriage or anything  _that_  big, because I'm sure three months isn't long enough for that, but something to show you aren't going to abandon him when things get tough."

"Something unexpected?"

"Yes."

"Can you watch these for a few minutes," Derek asked after a brief pause, nodding towards the oven. Kira nodded. "Thanks."

Derek returned ten minutes later, bidding Kira a goodnight, and finished making Stiles' dinner. He placed the pan of nuggets next to two, greasy bags full of curly fries, and was just untying his apron when Stiles called, "Honey, I'm home!"

"You're early," Derek called back, quickly leaving the kitchen. He still had to make dessert, the recipe for a lava cake shoved in the latest book he was reading.

"Scott mentioned you were making me food, so I got excited," Stiles responded leaning over the counter to give Derek a quick kiss. "So, feed me please because the last time I ate was this morning." Stiles had been working a nasty custody case for the past few days, the biggest one yet to come through the firm, and he had looked half asleep all week. It was yet another reason to make today special.

"How's the case going?" Derek asked curiously, heading back into the kitchen.

"I can't talk about it," Stiles answered reaching over the counter to grab a couple plates. "But I really don't think either parent deserves those kids."

Derek placed the fries on top of the nuggets. He pulled the ovenmitt Stiles gave him on over his hand ("a SpongeBob ovenmitt for my Squidward") and picked the tray up, carrying it out front. "I wish there was something I could do."

"I know," Stiles replied giving Derek a tired smile. His eyes lit up at the sight of food. "Holy shit, they're shaped like dinosaurs!"

"I thought hearts would be too clichéd," Derek said putting the tray on the counter. "Besides, the store ran out."

"No, dinosaurs are totally better than hearts." Stiles piled his plate with nuggets, upturning a bag of curly fries on top of them. A few spilled onto the counter, but he picked those up and forced them on his plate. "So," he started, shoving three fries into his mouth, "I got you something."

"Me too," Derek said adding a handful of nuggets to his plate.

"Dude, you made me food. You didn't  _have_  to do anything else." Stiles shoved a few more fries in his mouth, and brushed his hands on his pants before digging into his pocket. He pulled out a Tardis keychain, setting it on the counter.

"A keychain?"

"Look closer," Stiles said, gesturing to the keychain. Derek did as he was told, his head snapping up to look at Stiles. "You can use it to get into my apartment or whatever when I'm not home."

"I, um…" Derek pulled a box from his jacket pocket, putting it on the table. Excited and curious, Stiles picked the box up and opened it, eyes widening. "Great minds think alike, I guess," Derek said shrugging. Stiles pulled out a chain, a key hanging from it. "I thought, you know, since most of your stuff is already at my place, you'd like a key, too."

Stiles was quiet, unnaturally still for nearly a minute, and Derek nearly took the key back, feeling as if he messed up somewhere (and he was a bit confused by that because Stiles had gotten him the same exact gift), but when Stiles finally moved, he put the chain around his neck and said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Derek replied picking the Tardis keychain up. "And thank you for this." He shoved it in his pocket, intending to add both key and keychain to his keyring later.

Derek wanted to tell Stiles that he was the very first person to ever get a key to his place. That he trusted him, believed they were more than two dudes hanging out, but he didn't because Stiles didn't need to hear it. He already understood, having said the same exact thing by giving Derek a key to his place, too.

"Of course, we can't tell the girls we got each other the same gift," Stiles said slowly, around a mouthful of chicken. "I don't think I can handle their reactions."

Derek snorted, shaking his head. "Alright."

"We can't tell Scott either. He can't keep a secret to save his life."

"Okay."

"That also means we can't tell Isaac because he doesn't like keeping things from Scott. We can't tell Boyd either because he tells Erica everything. So, maybe we should just give each other back our keys." At first, Derek thought Stiles was serious, but when he looked up the brunet was grinning. "But that's a stupid ass decision, so let's ignore it."

Derek smiled, returning to his food. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"You too, Grumpy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could probably turn into a series. We'll see
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented and left kudos last chapter, you guys are awesome. And yes, for those who asked, the last chapter was loosely based off Paramore's song Still Into You. I didn't mean to write the ending the way I did, but I was listening to the song at the time and that's what happens when I'm not paying attention.
> 
> So, leave me and comment if you can, and thanks for reading.
> 
> Bye!!!


	4. The Break-Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is sort of my response to all the Teen Wolf drama going on today. It's pretty much me showing that not all Sterek fans hate Scott (in fact, I LOVE him to death). So, yeah.
> 
> So, thanks for reading and leaving me comments, kudos, and bookmarking this. I'd really like this to become a series, but it all depends on the response from you guys.
> 
> So, leave me a comment if you can and I am so sorry this is so short. I really need to get to bed, but I wanted to put something up. If there's another chapter I'll try to build off this one.
> 
> Bye!!!

Scott and Allison had been together, on and off, since their junior year of college. Scott had met her in the quad. At first, he admired her from afar for several days before Isaac 'accidentally' tripped him, knocking his books and Allison's all over the sidewalk. While picking their things up, Scott introduced himself and Allison smiled, asking him if he wanted to get coffee (it turned out, she was watching him, too).

They became inseparable afterwards, much to Stiles' annoyance (seriously, Scott was  _his_  first, and  _no_  he was not being petty Lydia, shut up), and it became a regular thing to see Allison during their weekend visits or hear Scott constantly talk about her like she was the second coming of Christ or something ("look Dad, I'm sorry, but he's one step away from shooting rainbows out of his ass whenever she's brought up"). Eventually Stiles learned to accept Allison, even became quasi-bros with her, and had actually encouraged her to move in with him and Scott when they finished college ("it'd actually help us pay the bills, and I just can't say no to Scott's puppy dog eyes").

With the exception of two very brief, very miserable break-ups, Stiles actually had very little doubt that Allison and Scott would get married. In fact, he had his best man speech already written, sitting in the bottom of his sock drawer (full of scribbled out words and grape soda stains), waiting for the big day. And he wasn't the only one planning ahead.

Lydia and Erica had printed out wedding ring and dress ideas, having stashed them in an old shoebox inside the former's closet. Boyd offered to make the cake. Danny and Ethan researched potential locations for the wedding. And even Isaac had himself ordained online so they didn't have to track down a priest. They were expecting a wedding, were willing to plan it if they had to, so to see Scott looking so miserable, huddled under a blanket on their couch, threw Stiles for a loop.

Stiles let himself into their apartment, dropping his messenger bag onto the floor. He rubbed his aching eyes, wanting nothing more than to take a long, hot shower and sleep for three days, making a mental note to call Derek and beg him to bring him several tons of coffee, but his plans abruptly died when he spotted Scott.

"Dude, what happened?" Stiles asked curiously, crossing the room quickly, sinking down next to his friend. Instead of answering, Scott spared him a sorrowful look and promptly burst into tears.

It took a while for Scott to get the story out, leaving Stiles' dress shirt soaking wet and a pile of tissues surrounding them, but Stiles finally understood what had happened. Apparently, Allison had gotten a job offer in New York. A fantastic job offer; something that could make or break her career, and she had taken it.

"Well, yeah, I get you're going to miss me," Stiles started, trying and failing to make it a joke (in reality it would hurt to see Scott leave), "but there's these newfangled things called cell phones and the internet."

Scott wiped his eyes, sitting up from his slumped position against Stiles. "No, dude, y-you don't get it. I-I'm not going w-with her."

"What? But you're Scott and Allison, Scallison, what do you mean you're not going with her?" Stiles had always figured Scott would go wherever Allison went, had even tried to prepare himself for it, so he wasn't expecting anything remotely close to what his friend was saying.

"W-we decided to end it," Scott murmured leaning back into Stiles, burying his face into his chest. "I can't leave my job, and I don't want to hold her back from hers."

"But long-distance…"

"Doesn't always work," Scott said, his voice muffled by Stiles' shirt. "T-this is the best option."

"Alright buddy," Stiles murmured, running a hand through Scott's hair. He didn't agree with his friend, there were several options he and Allison could take, but this was ultimately Scott and Allison's decision, Stiles literally had no say in it, but that still didn't stop him from being there for Scott. They were bros after all, brothers from totally different mothers, and if one was hurting the other made damn sure he wasn't alone.

Eventually Scott passed out, head in Stiles' lap, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, blanket pulled up to his chin. For a while, Stiles ran his fingers through Scott's hair, watching the television on mute, but eventually the quiet was broken, his phone buzzing against his leg, and he did some freaky evasive maneuvers to keep Scott from waking up.

"Hello," he answered, after succeeding (thank you, ninja gods) in extracting his phone from his pocket.

"Peter gave me the night off," Derek said by way of greeting, as eloquent as ever in Stiles' opinion. "I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat."

"I would, but something came up." Stiles quickly recapped what had happened, fussing with the blanket wrapped around Scott. "…so, I kind of want to be here for him, you know?"

Derek was quiet for a moment, clearly digesting what Stiles had told him, but finally he said, "I have this box full of recipes from my grandmother, mostly stuff Laura's deems 'fun food' and Cora calls 'post-break-up, time to get fat food.'"

"We don't have eggs, flour, butter, or anything really, so…" Stiles trailed off, already knowing what Derek was inferring.

"I'll be over in an hour," Derek said and hung up.

Sure enough, sixty-two minutes later, Derek was letting himself into their apartment, carrying two large canvas bags full of groceries. Stiles did some more evasive maneuvers, surprising himself when he managed to untangle himself from Scott _without_ waking him, and stood up. He stretched, moving across the room to help Derek.

"There's more outside," Derek said nodding towards the door.

"Dude, did you buy out the whole store?" Stiles asked peeking into one of the bags.

"Laura made a list," Derek answered stashing three packages of Oreos in a overhead cabinet. "And Cora added a few more items. I also ran into Lydia and Erica at the store, and they added a few more. I think you have enough ice cream to last you a year."

"Believe me, between Scott and I, it'll be gone in a week," Stiles said heading towards the door. He carried three more bags inside, laying them next to their brethren. Silently, the two began putting groceries away, occasionally bumping into each other, until finally all five bags were empty.

"You didn't have to do all this," Stiles said quietly, glancing over at Scott. "I mean, you and Scott aren't exactly friends."

"You care about him," Derek said softly, wrapping one arm around Stiles' shoulder, lightly kissing the side of his head, "of course I did." He let Stiles go, turning to a small, plastic box sitting on the counter. "I was thinking we'd start with a triple layer chocolate cake. Laura swears by it, and I even caught Peter making one when his last relationship ended."

Stiles was silent for a full minute, barely holding a smile at bay, thinking back to Matt and his hatred and jealousy of Scott, thanking his lucky stars Derek was nothing like  _him._

He eventually turned to Derek and said, "Can we make a vanilla cake instead? Scott's not a big fan of chocolate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't me bashing on the Scallison fandom (I don't really hate ANY ships on Teen Wolf), and I did try to find an adult reason for them to break up. But I might put them back together, or maybe I'll attempt Scira (I think they're cute), but we'll see.
> 
> Bye!!!


	5. Babies, Conversations, and Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's some drug use in this chapter. It's not taken on purpose, and I tried to make it as accurate as possible, but I've never done it (the only drugs I've ever taken are NyQuil and Allergy Pills). I also am NOT ragging on Scott (I want to make that clear), but he is the one who takes the drugs (it was originally supposed to be Derek, but this came to me and I just went "BRILLIANT."
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the kudos and comments, you guys are awesome, and I don't own any characters remotely associated with Teen Wolf (I do however own the OCs)
> 
> Thanks for reading and drop me a comment if you can
> 
> BYE!!!

Derek wasn't a big fan of crowds. He hadn't been since he was six and Laura left him standing by a concession stand at a fair so she could use the bathroom ("I'll be gone five minutes tops, Der. Don't be such a baby"). While he had not been harmed, he kept picturing himself getting trampled by the people surrounding him, and, like most scared kids, he had started crying. Laura teased him mercilessly afterwards, even after their mother told her off for leaving Derek alone, and she hadn't exactly let it go since then.

"But there's going to be people," Laura pointed out from his bed. Her back rested against six pillows (four of which came from her room), a plate of grapes sitting on her protruding stomach. She grabbed a grape, popping it into her mouth. "You  _hate_  people."

"No," Derek stated, buttoning up a forest green shirt, "I hate  _crowds…"_

"Oh, believe me baby bro, I remember," Laura teased and he glared at her. She merely grinned, grabbing another grape. "But seriously, you had that long spiel about the ineptitude of a crowd of people just last week. Why are you bothering to go to a club?" Derek didn't respond, messing with his shirt sleeves instead, but Laura wasn't stupid. She snorted and said, "Can you say whipped?"

"Can you say shut up?" he retorted crossing the room. He grabbed a few grapes from her bowl, ignoring her protests, and said, "Don't wait up, okay. I don't know when I'll be home. Stiles is all into this plan of getting Scott laid, since Allison left, and he asked me to help. And, you know, I haven't exactly seen…"

"You don't need to explain yourself, Der," Laura said patting his cheek. "But I am going to have Stiles text me pictures of your grumpy face all night."

"No you won't," Derek grumbled scowling, backing away from his sister.

"Yes I will," she said in a sing-song voice. "And  _you_  cannot stop…" her words melted into a soft hiss and she clutched her side, her grapes falling off her stomach and spilling all over Derek's bed.

"What?" Derek crossed the room in a second, kneeling next to her, his hand hovering over her dark hair. "A-are you in labor? Do I need to call your doctor? Or Max?"

"No, it's Braxton Hicks again," Laura grumbled slowly picking up her grapes and tossing them back into the bowl. "I've been getting them on and off all week. They are really starting to piss me off."

"Are you sure?" Derek asked worriedly, still hovering over his sister. "I don't have to go tonight…"

"I'm sure," she insisted shoving him away from her. "Stop being such a worrywart. I'll be fine." She pointed at the door when he neglected to move, and he finally, reluctantly sighed, nodding his head. He stood from his bed, heading towards the doorway. "You call me if they get worse, okay?"

"Yes Mom," Laura mocked grabbing a book off Derek's nightstand. "Oh my God, are you seriously reading this again?"

"I'm going," Derek grumbled and stalked out of the room and down the stairs.

"Spoiler alert," Laura called after him, "Smaug dies!"

"Good-bye, Laura," he called back, snatching his jacket off the back of a kitchen chair. He took a few seconds to scratch Sylvia's ears before letting himself out the back, heading towards his car.

The plan had been to pick Scott and Stiles up at their apartment, and they'd drive together to the club, but when Derek pulled up to the building Scott was standing outside alone, looking glumly at his phone. When he slid into Derek's car, he mumbled something about Stiles being a little late and driving to the club himself, but didn't say anything else.

"Okay," Derek replied softly, putting his vehicle back into drive. The car ride was quiet for a half the ride, but eventually Derek asked, "So, uh, how are you doing?"

"I ate three times my body weight in ice cream," Scott answered with a shrug, putting his phone away.

"I'm not sure that's healthy," Derek commented stopping at a red light. Scott shrugged again, letting his head rest against the passenger window. "So, um, how long did…?"

"I appreciate you trying to make small talk," Scott started sitting up, glancing over at Derek, "but I'd much rather  _not_  talk tonight. I mean, I don't even  _want_  to go out, but Stiles insisted and, well, you  _know_  he doesn't give up on an idea."

"Oh yes," Derek whispered trying and failing to forget the 'karaoke' thing ("You really  _are_  the Dancing Queen, Der." "I hate you, Cora").

"So, let's just agree we're doing this  _for_  Stiles."

"Alright," Derek agreed nodding.

"Good." Scott laid his head against the window again, and the car fell silent again.

* * *

Allison's departure was bittersweet. Lydia threw her a going away party at Peter's Café since she and Peter seemed to have formed some weird, quasi-friendship ("He's not  _that_  bad, Stiles"). Stiles suspected Lydia was just attracted to sassy people. Though he couldn't quite figure out why she was always hanging around Cora (Cora was more grumpily sarcastic than sassy). After the party and the tearful good-byes, Scott and Isaac took Allison to the airport.

When they returned, Scott proceeded to spend two days in the bathtub. It was very reminiscent of JD's brother on Scrubs, but Stiles really didn't feel that bad for Dan. With Scott, however, Stiles spent the hours  _not_  working sitting next to the tub. He read to Scott ("Hey, Scotty, what's black and white and… you know what, this book is terrible. None of these jokes are remotely sexual"), talked about all the TV he was missing since the latest case hit his desk ("I mean, I haven't seen the new season of Supernatural yet, dude. Nor have I actually sat down and watched Matt's exit episode. I heard he sneezed and then, poof, Capaldi"), and even complained a bit about his boss ("He's weird man. First, he's all 'flowers spruce up the place,' and next he's a vulture in the courtroom. I think he's a wizard, how easily Deucalion can switch from happy hippy to angry prosecuting lawyer").

In fact, the only things he did not talk about were Allison leaving and his relationship with Derek. Stiles felt it would be a little insensitive to bring up how happy he was when Scott was so miserable. But after two days, Scott really had to get back to work. So, he dragged himself from the tub, waited until he got feeling back into his legs, and braved the world. Stiles actually thought Scott was getting marginally better until he returned home to find Scott in a blanket fort, eating ice cream, watching Thunder Cats reruns, his eyes red-rimmed.

"At least tell me you didn't cry at work," Stiles had said when he joined Scott in the fort.

"I didn't," Scott had lied digging into the ice cream with more vigor. He took a bite, offering Stiles the carton and his spoon.

Stiles gave Scott another week, but eventually he just couldn't take it anymore. So, naturally he had suggested they go to the club. He also decided to drag Derek along because a) he needed back up and b) he hadn't actually had more than a few moments interaction with him over the past week.

But Deucalion had decided to bombard him with paperwork, and Stiles sent a quick text to Scott telling him what was going on. He would have texted Derek, too, but apparently texting was beneath Derek and he had never actually gotten the function for his phone.

Stiles managed to get the paperwork done quicker than he expected, and he was out the door before eleven. He drove to Derek's place, the closest location with some of his clothes (because he didn't feel like wearing a suit to a club), and used his key to get inside.

"Hello," he called petting Sylvia as she wound around his legs. "Anyone home?"

"Stiles," Laura called from upstairs. "Derek's not here!"

"I know," Stiles called back heading up the stairs. "I was running late, had to work. I hope he and Scott aren't having a bad time without me."

"I'm sure they are," she said and he smiled, following her voice. He found Laura sitting on Derek's bed, The Hobbit laying open on her stomach; the TV played a muted, Lifetime movie.

"Here to grab some clothes?" she asked curiously, closing the book, pushing herself up.

"Yep," he answered digging through the closet. It wasn't lost on him that sixty percent of the clothes were  _his_  nor that three or four of his shirts looked a little stretched out. He thought he'd care, but in fact it just prompted him to wear some of Derek's things.

"You do know Derek hates crowded places, right?"

"Yep," Stiles repeated settling on a Flash t-shirt. He unbuttoned his dress shirt, tossing it on the floor, pulling the t-shirt over his head.

"And that by taking him to a club he's going to complain non-stop the  _entire_  night," Laura continued and Stiles heard her turn a page in her book.

"Yep," he said a third time, leaving the closet and heading towards the dresser. He pulled out a pair of black jeans, switching them out with his slacks.

"I knew I liked you," Laura said and Stiles grinned, grabbing a flannel and his high-tops from the closet. He sat on the foot of the bed, pulling his shoes onto his feet. "Hey, I want a running commentary tonight."

"Of course," Stiles answered getting to his feet. He shrugged the flannel on, turning towards the door, but stopped when he heard Laura's soft 'oh.'

"Oh?" he turned, eyes widening when he saw the liquid staining Derek's blanket. "Oh."

* * *

"This place is loud!" Scott called over the thumping music, and Derek nodded. Both men were awkwardly standing next to the bar, holding a beer, watching as couples did semi-illegal dance moves around them. "Has Stiles called yet?!"

"No! He hasn't called you?!"

"I left my phone at home!" Scott yelled back, taking a drink of his beer.

Curiously, Derek pulled his phone from his pocket, but before he could check for any missed calls someone ran into him, knocking the phone to the floor. Being one of those cheap phones, the thing broke on impact and Derek sighed heavily, sounding more like a growl than anything.

"That sucks, dude!"

"Ya think," Derek snapped stooping down to pick up the pieces.

"I didn't break your phone!" Scott argued finishing his beer. He grabbed Derek's, the older man having left it on the bar, and said, "I'm going to find the bartender."

"Whatever."

He managed to get most of the pieces, placing the SIM card and battery in his pocket before carrying the rest of the pieces to a nearby trashcan. After deposing of his once trusty phone, he decided to seek out Scott, who had been gone longer than someone standing by the bar should be, only to find him chatting with a blond guy.

"…it's like, we were together for almost six years, you know, so I'm not sure if I can get into the dating game again! And now I'm stuck with my best friend's boyfriend, who I think hates me!"

"Whatever," the guy said nodding. "You wanna go make out in the bathroom?"

"No, thanks," Scott replied shaking his head. "I mean, I know she's not the only girl in… Hey!" The guy had walked away, catching the attention of another man. As they started dancing, Derek took that as his cue to approach Scott.

"I don't hate you!" he called over the music, startling the younger man.

"What?" Scott turned around, taking a step away from Derek.

"I don't hate you," he repeated a bit louder. "As best friends go, Stiles could have done a whole lot worse!"

"Thanks? I guess!" Scott looked down, realizing he's carrying two beers, and handed one to Derek. They leaned against the bar again, taking a long pull on their beer, but the silence between them was less tense.

Scott excused himself to use the bathroom ten minutes later, handing Derek his beer and asking him to watch it. Holding both bottles, Derek watched Scott disappearing into the crowd. He turned his head, intending to check his watch, only to jolt back. Kira was standing next to him.

"Hi!" she said brightly, a little nervously, waving at him. "I never thought I'd see you here!"

"I don't want to be!" he called back. "Stiles asked me to come and help Scott, but he's running late so…" he noticed Kira's interest perk up at Scott's name and an idea occurred to Derek. "Hey, you wanna meet Scott?"

"What?!" Kira's eyes widen and she frantically shook her head. "I, uh, I couldn't. I mean, I don't want to, um, intrude on…"

"It's fine! He'll be back in a few minutes!"

Kira awkwardly stood next to Derek, looking about ready to run away any second, but she stayed. Derek checked his watch, wondering if Scott was still in the bathroom, but his inquiry was answered a moment later when Scott returned. Right away, Derek knew something wasn't quite right.

"Hey guys!" Scott called nodding his head to the techno song. "This is such a good song, right?" He did a move that reminded Derek of Stiles, tripping over his feet and landing on the floor. Both Kira and Derek crouched down to see if he was okay. He seemed fine, laughing hard, clutching his stomach, and Derek grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to his feet.

"Holy shit, this shirt is  _so_  soft," Scott murmured when his hand brushed against Derek's sleeve. Much to Derek's, and Kira's, surprise, Scott rubbed his face against Derek's chest. "Holy cow, this  _is_  a soft shirt. Can I have it?"

"Scott," Kira called pushing herself to her feet, trying to catch his eyes, her voice calm, almost mom-like. "Did you take anything?"

"I, uh, no," he answered shaking his head. "Except the aspirin some dude gave me. I told him I had a headache and…" he looked between the two, giggling at their worried exchange.

"Where is this guy, Scott?" Derek asked curiously, grabbing the guy's shoulders, very much aware of Kira hovering behind him. "Tell me where this guy is."

"Let's dance first," Scott shouted moving away from Derek and grabbing Kira's hand, dragging her to the dance floor, just as an ABBA remix started.

Scott!" Derek called after the younger man, but his words were swallowed up by the song. He was shunted to the side by a wildly dancing couple, tripping over his feet and falling heavily on the floor. His hand landed in something wet and sticky, and he prayed to God it was someone's spilled drink. He scrambled up, intending to look for Scott, but he and Kira had already disappeared. Running his non-sticky hand down his face, he shoved his way through the crowd.

* * *

"Okay, so Derek is  _not_  picking up," Stiles informed Laura, helping her down the stairs. "And Cora isn't picking up. Neither is your Uncle Peter, and Max is out of town…"

"I-I know all this," Laura said through clenched teeth, clutching tightly to Stiles' arm. "I-I don't need a running c-commentary."

"Hey, I am just trying to help," Stiles retorted steering her towards the door.

"All your talking is  _not_  helping, Stiles."

"If I don't keep talking I am going to start panicking, okay? So, please just let me talk."

Laura sighed heavily, but nodded, and Stiles took that as his cue to keep going. "We're just going to get you to the hospital, and then I'll try to track down Derek or Cora, alright?"

"Just hurry," Laura grumbled making a face when she spotted Stiles' jeep. "I don't  _want_  to have my daughter in your crappy jeep."

"Winona resents you insulting her," Stiles protested opening the passenger door.

"Really? After John Crichton's gun?"

Stiles was stunned for .2 seconds before he said, "I knew I liked you best." He lowered Laura into the seat, carefully shut the jeep's door, and hurried around to the driver side.

He drove twenty over the speed limit, managing to make it to the hospital in less than ten minutes, and parked his jeep right out front of the hospital's entrance. He jumped out, hurrying to the other side, and helped Laura out, escorting her into the building.

"Hey," he greeted a nurse, and she looked up from her clipboard. "Hi, yes, I, um, she's popped or something and I need a doctor."

"I'm in labor," Laura explained giving Stiles' a tired look.

The nurse nodded, and stood up, gesturing for an Orderly to bring a wheelchair over. Stiles helped Laura sit in the chair and said, "I'm going to move my jeep. Will you be okay without me?" Laura rolled her eyes, shooing Stiles away, and he left her in the capable hands of the hospital staff, already rushing outside, wanting to avoid getting a ticket.

He returned five minutes later, finding Laura's room fairly quickly. She was sitting up in bed, fiddling with her cell phone while a nurse hovered over her, checking her vitals. The nurse gave Stiles a quick scan before asking, "First kid?"

"What? Me? No." He shook his head. "Nope. No, no, no. The bringer of the goo is  _not_  my kid. I am like an honorary uncle, I guess. I mean, Derek and I aren't married or anything, and we've only been together for six months, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if…"

"My fiancé is out of town," Laura stated without looking up from her cell, effectively shutting Stiles up.

"Thank you," the nurse stated and walked out of the room, shaking her head as she passed Stiles. He waited until she was gone before sinking into a chair, wrapping his hands around the back of his knees.

"Any word?" he asked nodding his head at Laura's phone.

"No, and I am going to kill them." Laura tossed her phone at the foot of her bed, leaning her head back. "I did get a hold of Max, but he can't get flight back until tomorrow night." She was upset by this news, regardless of how well she tried to hide it, and Stiles reached out, taking her hand.

"It's okay," he said softly, squeezing her hand. "You've got me."

"Yeah, you'll…" Laura trailed off, squeezing Stiles' hand back hard, and Stiles swore he felt bones grind against each other.

"Ack!" Stiles exclaimed but Laura didn't let go until her contraction passed. When she let him go, Stiles clutched his hand to his chest, warily watching her, and said, "Will I get out of this with both hands intact?"

"Probably not," Laura admitted but she had the decency to sound apologetic. Stiles was almost willing to forgive her, but then she said, "Thank your lucky stars you have Derek."

"Oh, my God!"

"Hey, it's not my favorite topic, talking about my brother's sex life, but, you know, with the whole hand thing…"

"Stop it," Stiles shouted covering his ears. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Derek had managed to track Scott's 'guy' down. The guy had reassured him (after his back met the wall a few times) that Scott had been given ecstasy. Derek had  _not_  been reassured. In fact, he fought the urge to throw a punch at the man, instead gathering Kira and Scott and escorting them out of the club.

"Are you sure you don't need my help?" Kira asked curiously, following Derek out of the club. Scott's arm was draped around Derek's shoulders, his face rubbing against Derek's shirt again, and he hummed along to the Cyndi Lauper song that had been playing when they left the club.

"No, I'm fine," Derek responded giving her a small smile. "But thank you for offering. Maybe next time you can meet him on better circumstances."

"Maybe," she stated with a half-smile, nodding her head. She looked at Scott and said, "You get better, okay?"

"Okay Kira," Scott answered grinning at her. "Did anyone ever tell you you're pretty?" Kira seemed to perk up at that, but her mood plummeted when Scott added, "Allison's pretty, too. I miss her."

"Bye Derek, Scott," Kira murmured and walked away, heading towards her car. Derek waited until she was behind the wheel before helping Scott towards his car.

"We could have kept dancing," Scott said wiggling his body against Derek's side. "I woulda asked you, but you were being all grumpy and broody, so Kira got  _all_  the dances."

"I think you've had enough dancing tonight," Derek responded helping Scott into the car. He shut the door, heading around to the driver side, and opened his door. Ducking inside, Derek glanced over at Scott, watching as the younger guy rubbed his face against the leather seat.

"This seat feels awesome," Scott exclaimed running his hand down the material. "Is this real leather?"

"Yeah," Derek answered starting his car. His first step was to take Scott home, then he'd use Scott's phone to call Stiles, let him know what had happened, and then he planned to Google ecstasy, see what he had to do to help Scott.

With a plan in mind, Derek pulled out of his parking spot and headed in the direction of Scott and Stiles' apartment. Scott continued to run his face and hands across several surfaces, doing some questionable things to Derek's door, before turning to the older man and saying, "Stiles really loves you, dude."

"I really love him, too," Derek replied softly.

"Like Lydia love. I mean, the last person he had ever loved like he loves you was Lydia. Except he had her on this pedestal and stuff, so it wasn't, like, real love, but that fake, 'let me love you' love. But then he got to know her and their love became real, 'let's be friends' love.

"But with you. He knows who you are, and he doesn't care. He doesn't care that you're grumpy and rarely smile because he loves you." Scott smiled goofily, touching Derek's stubble. "And I love that he loves you. I fucking love it because he deserves to be happy." He ran two fingers down Derek's beard, giggling. "Don't make my friend unhappy, please. Because breaking up sucks, and I don't want my friend's life to suck, okay? Not like mine."

He stroked Derek's beard a third time, giving it an appalled look. "What the fuck do you do to this man? It's so fucking soft!"

Scott eventually stopped touching Derek, turning his attention to the seat again, and began muttering about Kira and her soft, apple smelling hair. Derek left the younger man to his muttering, thinking about what Scott had said.

Stiles could be a pain in the ass, had ways of getting under Derek's skin that no one ever could, and pretty much made himself a place in Derek's life without too much effort. But, above it all, he didn't have plans to hurt Stiles, didn't think he could survive if he did, and that both thrilled and terrified him, but it also made him wonder just how deep into the future Stiles' plans went for them. Were they the same as Derek's or were they both on entirely different pages?

"Derek, I really love this car," Scott stated pulling Derek from his thoughts. "I'm gonna name it Spud. Except this seat, this seat is named Allison. And this door is named Kira. And I'm naming that mirror Stiles." Scott leaned back into the seat, murmuring, "And maybe your seat can be named Isaac."

"Okay," Derek agreed nodding. "But I don't think Isaac would appreciate me sitting on him."

Scott giggled, taking a good three minutes to calm down before he could say, "You're funny, Derek. I like you. And I like Kira. Can I call her?"

"If you remember this tomorrow you can," Derek promised pulling up to Scott's building. "You ready to head inside?"

"Wait! I'm wanna say goodbye to Allison and Kira."

It took Scott ten minutes to say goodbye to his 'friends', but finally he and Derek headed inside. The elevator ride was awkward, especially when a middle-aged woman entered after them, and Derek spent the entire ride keeping Scott away from her faux-mink coat.

She left them one floor below Scott and Stiles', giving them a wary look, muttering something about tweakers, but Derek chose to ignore her, too busy trying to get Scott home. Finally, the elevator opened on the right floor, and Scott latched onto Derek, singing a Blink 182 song quite loudly in his ear.

Derek used his key to get inside, letting Scott roam around the moment the door was open. He watched as the younger guy dive bombed the couch, burying his face into a blanket. Derek closed the door, making sure to lock it, and headed towards Scott's cell, sitting on the kitchen counter.

Scott had three missed calls and six missed texts, all from Stiles, and Derek felt his stomach clench with irrational worry. Stiles could have easily been at the club, trying to figure out why neither Derek nor Scott were waiting for him, but it still didn't stop Derek from checking the text messages (despite what Stiles might think, Derek  _knew_  how to text, he just chose not to).

_Scott, at hospital. Laura in labor. Derek not answering_

_Scott, seriously, pick up. Laura's about to push out a human and I do not want to be in the delivery room_

_Are you ignoring me?_   _This isn't funny. Where the fuck are you?_

The texts continue like that, and Derek quickly called Stiles' number. It rang twice before he answered, " _Where the hell are you guys_?"

"My phone broke and Scott's high on E," Derek replied glancing over at Scott. He had abandoned the couch and now stood with his head under the kitchen faucet.

" _What? How did_ _that_ _happen?"_

"I'm not sure. He went to the bathroom and when he came back…" Derek trailed off, moving across the room to get a glass for Scott, stopping him from drinking straight from the tap. He handed the glass over, moving back to his original position. "How's Laura?"

" _She's eight centimeters dilated, hates you and Cora right now, and is probably going to make me the godfather of her baby_."

"Where's Cora?" Derek asked worry pulsing through him. The last he checked, Cora had had plans to to stay in that night, but after she had gotten some mysterious phone call she left in a hurry. He hoped it hadn't been something bad.

 _"She's not answering her phone, but Peter showed up fifteen minutes ago, so he's at least in the clear. Look, I can probably cover for you. I'll tell Laura you're taking care of Scott_."

"Yeah," Derek said glancing over at Scott. He was chugging water like he hadn't had anything to drink in days, his whole body sagging against the counter. "Call me the moment she has the baby, okay?"

" _I will, and you call me if anything happens to Scott,"_  Stiles responded sounding worried. " _And I mean anything. And make sure he drinks plenty of water, okay?_ "

"That's not a problem," Derek replied wondering if someone could drown from drinking too much water. "Tell Laura I love her."

"Tell Scott he's an idiot."

After the two hung up, Derek turned to see Scott sitting on the floor, head resting against a cabinet, eyes closed and breathing even. Pocketing Scott's phone, Derek moved towards the younger man. He made sure he was really asleep before grabbing his arms and hauling him up, throwing the limp body over his shoulder.

He carried Scott to his bedroom, laying the younger man on his bed, and proceeded to remove Scott's shoes. He threw them onto the floor, made quick work removing Scott's belt, tossing that on the dresser, and then took a seat in the squishy green chair by the window.

He ran his hands through his hair, leaning his head back. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but the next thing he knew Scott's phone was playing some Rancid song, startling Derek back to the waking world. He quickly pulled the phone from his pocket, opening the picture message.

 _Quinn Olivia Hale_ , the caption said and a small, bald, pink bundle appeared on the screen, wrapped in a ducky blanket and looking at the camera with bright, blue eyes. Derek smiled, studying his niece carefully, and it suddenly occurred to him that his eldest sister, the same sister that called him Scaredy Derek for weeks after leaving him alone in a crowd, the same Laura that punched Nick Chambers in the face when Derek was seven because he called her little brother a Dork Machine, the same Laura that spent six months stalking the singer of an ACDC cover band because she thought he may have hit her car. She had had a baby, had brought a new life into the world, and that amazed Derek how something so small could have such a huge impact.

* * *

"I'm calling her Q for the rest of her life," Stiles told Derek the next day, his forehead pressed into the nursery window, breath fogging up the glass as he looked down at Quinn. "And I hope one day she meets her James Bond…"

"Seriously?" Derek threw Stiles an incredulous look, but the younger man wasn't paying attention, his eyes still on Quinn. "I guess Q is better than what Laura used to call me."

"Bunny Hale." Stiles smirked when Derek threw him a surprised look. "Yeah, she told me. She actually told me quite a bit about you. Especially where your ticklish spot…ACK!" Stiles exclaimed when Derek grabbed him by the waist, keeping him from tickling him, and tossed him over his shoulder.

"Put me down," Stiles squealed, but he was still unable to stop laughing. Derek ignored him, carrying him all the way back to Laura's room. He burst inside, Laura, Scott, and Cora looking up, and Derek deposited Stiles onto the floor, gesturing to his sister. "He is not allowed alone with you ever again."

"Why hello to you, too," Laura retorted with an amused grin. She turned her attention back to Scott and said, "You're lucky that guy didn't give you something more dangerous."

"I know," Scott answered glumly, slumped in his chair. "I don't even know what came over me either. I mean, believing it was aspirin. Seriously? I'm such an idiot."

"No, Scotty, you're not," Stiles corrected crossing the room, planting himself next to Scott. "You made a simple, human mistake, which resulted in naming everything in Derek's car after your friends."

"What?"

"You also dry humped the door, but you did it tastefully so I'm…" Scott punched Stiles' arm, cutting him off, and threw Derek a dark look. "Wait, you actually…" Stiles trailed off, finding his knees very interesting.

"Awkwardness aside, we know where Derek was last night, but what about you?" Laura turned her attention to Cora, but her sister suddenly became 'famished' and hurried out of the room. Derek and Laura shared a look and said, "She met someone."

They left shortly after, Scott catching a ride home with Cora. Derek drove Stiles back to his place, and the latter of the two spent the entire car ride talking about the delivery process. "…because Peter said he wasn't going to sit in the delivery room with Laura. It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be, but it was still a side of Laura I never, ever wanted to see. And when Q came out, it was like this gush of…"

"I get the picture," Derek interrupted putting his hand up, not even attempting to hide the grimace on his face. "It's more than  _I_  wanted to know about Laura, and I'm usually the one who has to get her and Cora tampons, so…"

"Alright, so what did you and Scott talk about last night?" Stiles asked curiously, quickly glancing at the door, pulling his arm away from it.

"Nothing much," Derek answered shrugging. "Apparently he loves that we love each other. He also asked me…" Shaking his head, Derek sighed and pulled his car over, glancing over at Stiles' bewildered face. "You're happy, right? With me?"

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

"What? No! No, I just…" he sighed heavily, gripping the steering wheel. "I want this to work;  _us_  to work. I want it more than almost anything, but I don't want to pressure you into something you're not ready for."

"Der, if I wasn't ready for you, you'd know," Stiles whispered with a small smile. He leaned forward, lightly pecking Derek on the lips, and then said, "Now, can we go home? My home, your home, just  _a_  home. I am starving and this car smells a little like sex."

Snorting, Derek threw his car back into drive and pulled back into the street.


	6. Dearly Departed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate myself for this chapter

When Derek was fourteen he caught mono ("shut up, Laura. It's not my fault Shelly Winter coughed on me") and had to spend a month out of school. In that month, when he wasn't crashed out in his room like he had a bad case of the flu, Derek found himself utterly and completely bored. To alleviate his boredom, and most likely to stop his complaining ("I do not  _whine_  Laura"), Derek's father dragged out his grandmother's old recipes and gave Derek free rein of the kitchen.

It didn't take long for Derek to realize he was just not a very good cook. His roasts came out dry, his chicken was never completely cooked, and he never wanted to think about the baked macaroni incident ever again. Laura spent hours laughing at him, while Cora made snide comments about his lack of skills in the kitchen, and Derek almost threw the box of recipes out of a window. But his mother convinced him to try one more time, suggesting he try the desserts instead.

So, Derek tried, and he actually, surprisingly succeeded, making a French vanilla cake (his frosting ability, however, still needed work). Eventually he was able to go back to school, but not before he made triple fudge brownies, a triple-decker honey cake, and (Laura's personal favorite) chocolate, macadamia nut cookies.

His love for baking did not die, in fact it grew over the years, and it was a major reason why Peter even bothered to keep him around the café ("it sure as hell isn't because of your  _sunny_  personality, nephew mine"). It also brought along a few repercussions.

Laura liked to call it 'stress baking.' Cora, on the other hand, called it 'Derek's secret wish to get fat.' He never bothered to respond to either of his sister, letting them believe what they wanted, but, okay, sometimes when he was under a lot of stress (or any emotional turmoil really), he liked to go into baking frenzies.

When Paige broke up with him, he spent three weeks just baking snicker doodles. No one in his family particularly cared for snicker doodles, but Paige had  _loved_  them and Derek had convinced himself if he just kept baking the stupid cookies she'd take him back (he was sixteen and stupid). When Kate cheated on him, he spent a week and a half baking dozens of fudge lava cakes ("if I see another piece of chocolate cake, I'm going to throw up in your shoes, Derek"). Jackson and Jennifer's departures resulted in the same thing (he made caramel brownies after Jackson left, and vanilla cookies after Jennifer). Those instances barely scratched the surface of college and all the lovely gifts of stress that place brought ("did the Pillsbury Dough Boy implode in here?" "Shut up, Erica.")

But Derek hadn't 'stressed' baked in a while. In fact, since Stiles, the only times he ever actually baked outside of Peter's café was when Laura had her baby shower and when Allison and Scott broke up (also the occasional evening when Cora and Laura wanted brownies, or when Stiles complained for hours on end about  _needing_  monkey bread).

The phone call came about twenty-five minutes after he opened the café. Derek had been busy removing the first batch of oatmeal raisin cookies from the oven, intending to start a couple more batches of chocolate chip, when his cell phone buzzed against his leg.

He put the tray down, reaching into his pocket, and pulled out the iPhone Stiles  _swore_  he had to get, eyebrows scrunching up when the picture of Laura and Quinn flashed back at him. Cautiously, he answered, "Laura? Is something wrong?"

" _Uh, I, Derek_ …" Laura was trying to keep it together, Derek could tell, and he felt his stomach sink to somewhere near his feet.

"What happened? Is it Quinn? Cora? Max?"

" _Derek, Mom called_ …" a faint buzzing began humming in Derek's ears, and he nearly missed Laura's next words. "… _about Dad. He's… Derek he's gone_."

"Okay thanks," Derek said softly, breathlessly and he hung up on his sister. He tossed his phone on the counter and turned back to the mixing bowl, dragging out the ingredients for raspberry and white chocolate muffins. Peter had always been pretty good at keeping the kitchen stocked, knowing that Derek enjoyed experimenting with different ingredients so it wasn't exactly hard to find everything he needed, and he immediately began adding things to the large, orange mixing bowl, completely shutting off his brain.

He was still baking when Kira came in, and she stopped next to him, watching him carefully. "What are you making?"

"Raspberry and white chocolate muffins," Derek said softly, carefully pouring batter into a muffin pan.

"Oh? Those sound delicious. Any specific reason why?" Kira leaned forward, sniffing at the already cooling muffins.

"My dad likes them," Derek replied clutching the bowl a bit tighter than necessary.

"Oh! Is he coming to town or…?"

"He died," Derek stated, cutting the young woman off, putting the bowl down and grabbing the muffin pan. He turned away from Kira's shocked and sympathetic face, carrying the pan over to the oven. He opened the door, placing the pan on the middle shelf, checked on the already cooking batch, and then closed the door, turning back to see Kira biting her lip, looking like she was torn between leaving or trying to hug him.

"Work the register," he said pointing towards the kitchen's entryway, making the decision for her. She looked like she wanted to argue, but she finally nodded and quickly retreated to the front again. Derek returned to his task at hand, his hands shaking slightly, but he ignored that, putting more concentration into baking his muffins, forcing his brain to shut down again.

* * *

Stiles stood in the kitchen entryway, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, worry evident all over his face as he watched Derek. It had been two days since his dad's death, something Stiles had to hear about from Cora, and the poor guy had been in a semi-constant state of denial. He also spent the past two days constantly baking raspberry and white chocolate muffins.

"It's what he does," Laura had explained when Stiles had asked, attempting to soothe a fussy Quinn, her eyes bloodshot and her face puffy and pale. Max sat next to her, but every time he tried to take Quinn from Laura she would shake her head and move another inch away from him. "It's how he deals with stress."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Stiles had asked curiously, worriedly.

"Just be there for him." Laura had answered and then stood up, taking Quinn out of the room. Max had given Stiles a helpless look before standing and quickly following her.

Now, Stiles pushed away from the wall, slowly walking into the kitchen. He stopped by the counter, watching Derek carefully. He had dark purple circles under his eyes, from lack of sleep no doubt, and the green was startling from the red lines marring his eyeballs. He hadn't said anything in two days, so Stiles wouldn't doubt his voice was probably hoarse, and his hands seemed to be constantly shaking, but he didn't seem to notice. In fact, he wasn't noticing a lot lately, nor was he acknowledging anyone besides a single glare when Cora tried to coax him into getting some sleep.

"You deal with him," she had snarled when she stormed past Stiles, heading out the door, slamming it behind her. Stiles had a feeling she was going to see the mystery person she had been seeing, and he hoped whoever it was, was able to help her in any way that she could.

"Hey, Der, you need any help?' Stiles asked carefully, hovering just a few inches from Derek, hands itching to grab the stubborn, grieving man and wrap him in a hug and never, ever let him go, but he also knew what it felt like to lose a parent, how the overwhelming need to  _do_  something, anything to get his mind off the pain was like an all consuming demon. It didn't go away overnight, hell it barely went away after a month, and its only function was to prolong the inevitable breakdown, bubbling just beneath the surface, waiting for an opening.

Derek didn't answer Stiles' question, his hands cracking an egg, letting the yolk fall into a Garfield mug. He put the shell to the side, grabbing another, cracking it open. Stiles watched him crack one more egg, yolk dribbling over the edge of the mug, sliding down the porcelain and landing on the granite counter.

"Look, you know my mother died when I was younger," Stiles started, needing Derek to acknowledge him, hell acknowledge anyone for that matter, "but what I never told you was my dad took it pretty hard. He, uh, he went through this sort of depression after Mom's death. Spent the majority of the time drinking, didn't show up to work half the time, barely paid me any attention, and it took a social worker actually threatening to take me away for him to get his shit together." Derek had gone still, listening to the story, but he still wouldn't look at Stiles nor did he say anything.

"I just, I don't want that to happen to you, okay? Take the time, as much as you need, to grieve, but don't shut anyone out." He gave Derek a weak smile, nodding his head towards the living room. "I'm just going to leave you to your baking."

Stiles turned, heading towards the exit, but stopped when Derek, his voice hoarse, softly asked, "Do you want to help me with the next batch?" Turning back, Stiles nodded and headed back to Derek's side. It wasn't a very big victory, but at least it was a step in the right direction.

* * *

Cora almost turned around five times, really  _not_  needing to add 'seeking comfort' to the ever growing list proving that she and Lydia were an  _actual_  couple. Cora hadn't been looking for a relationship when she and Lydia hooked up, and she  _knew_  Lydia wasn't looking for anything long term, but two months later neither woman had wised up and broken off whatever the hell they were doing.

They had met about a week before Laura had Quinn. Lydia and Erica had been having lunch together, gossiping over crap that Cora didn't give two flying fucks about, and Cora had walked in during her lunch break, needing to get away from the  _teenagers_ for a while (plus, Derek turned a nice shade of red when she bugged him enough).

At first glance, Lydia came off as a stuck up bitch, and Cora hated her with every fiber she had, but Erica had to head out, something about a case, and left the two women alone. They snarked back and forth for a while, Cora calling Lydia a ' _Self-righteous_   _Princess'_ on more than one occasion, while Lydia called Cora a ' _Petulant Bitch_.' By the time lunch was over, both girls were making out in the bathroom. It all escalated from there, and now Cora felt like she had been dropped in a goddamn Nicolas Sparks novel ("he's not a bad author, Cora, you just don't understand a good love story").

Lydia lived in the nicer part of town, in a townhouse that her fancy editing job paid for, with her roommates Danny and Ethan ("actually it's just Danny, but since he started dating Ethan it's a bit like I've gained another roommate"). Her cherry red mustang sat in the driveway, idling, obviously waiting for Lydia to return from whatever she was doing inside, so Cora parked her car in the street.

For a while, she sat in her car, white knuckling the steering wheel, watching Lydia's house. She really shouldn't  _be_  there; she didn't  _need_  to see Lydia. Yes, her father had died, but people died every single day and their loved ones dealt with it. She didn't need to burden Lydia with any of her drama. She could easily drive away, pretend she never stopped by Lydia's place, gone home to her distant brother and clingy sister, wait for their mother to bring their father home, but no matter how hard Cora tried to leave, she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

Lydia stepped outside, carrying some expensive, leather monstrosity, nudging her tiny, yappy, ratty dog back into the house with her red pumps. She shut the door, fixing her lavender cardigan, heading towards her car, only to freeze when she caught Cora staring at her. The two women held eye contact for a brief moment before Lydia moved towards her car, opening the door long enough to turn it off. She then nodded towards her house, already heading back inside.

Cora sighed, turning her car off, and shoved the door open. She stashed her keys in the navy blue messenger bag she carried around, exited her car, and shut the door once she had her bag over her shoulder. Slowly, Cora headed towards the house, her boots crunching leaves as she walked, left hand wrapped around the strap of her bag, right hand shoved into the pocket of her leather jacket.

The door was slightly ajar; Lydia's rat barking at Cora's feet the moment she walked inside, and Cora nudged it to the side so she could close the door. She dropped her bag on a pitch black, leather couch, kicking her combat boots off and leaving them in the middle of the living room. She shrugged her jacket off, tossing it on top of her bag, and headed into the kitchen.

Lydia's purse lay on the table, her heels were abandoned by the stove, and her cardigan hung off a chair. The woman herself had her head in the freezer, pulling out a tub of cookie dough ice cream. She waved it in the air and said, "We're using the same spoon."

"What if I want my own spoon?" Cora asked leaning against the counter, crossing her arms.

"I wanted to be a manticore when I was younger," Lydia responded grabbing a spoon from a drawer. She walked past Cora, patting her hair in a patronizing manner, "We can't always get what we want, sweetie."

"I told you not to call me that," Cora grumbled following Lydia into the living room.

"Did you?" Lydia's face morphed into a faux-thoughtful mask. "Huh, I guess I didn't hear you."

It wasn't conventional comfort. There were no hugs between them, no kisses to make it better. Tears were not shed; Cora didn't suddenly sweep Lydia off her feet and confess her undying love for her. It just wasn't who they were, but this, snarking at each other, acting like they didn't care, but at the same time caring too much, that's exactly who they were, and it didn't matter if Derek and Laura didn't  _know_  about her and Lydia. They had their own relationships to deal with, their own significant others, they didn't  _need_  to stick their noses into Cora's love life. She didn't stick her nose in theirs. She didn't grill Laura for hours on end about Max, and she didn't hover awkwardly above Derek and not so subtly ask about Stiles.

"We're watching The Notebook tonight," Lydia said handing Cora the ice cream, moving towards her sleek entertainment center, seeking out the movie in question.

"I never agreed to that," Cora stated taking a seat on the couch, knocking her bag and coat onto the floor. She dug into the ice cream, shoving a spoonful into her mouth.

"I never agreed to a binge session of  _Game of Thrones_ , but we watched that last week," Lydia sniffed putting the movie in, closing the bluray's disc tray. She tossed the case on top of the player, and crossed the room, taking a seat next to Cora.

Cora snorted, handing Lydia the ice cream, relaxing into the couch. She wasn't magically better, her family was still a complete mess, her father was still dead, and her emotional ("yes, Laura, I do have emotions other than anger") wounds weren't going to heal overnight, but being there, with Lydia, was the most content Cora had been since she found out her father died. She just wished the feeling would last.

* * *

Talia arrived back in Beacon Hills around midday, four days after Nathan's death. Stiles and Laura greeted her at the airport, Laura not wanting to go alone, and Derek finally crashing after a three day baking binge (Laura may or may not have slipped something in his drink, but Stiles had no actual proof). Also Cora was still MIA (she did send a few texts to Laura, letting her know she was okay, but she wouldn't divulge a location), and Max had volunteered to deal with rescheduling all the wedding stuff.

"How's your mother holding up?" Stiles asked curiously, making funny faces at Quinn. She gurgled, reaching for Stiles' face, her baby seat rocking back and forth as she moved.

"She's Mom," Laura replied vaguely, craning her head to look over the crowd, searching for her mother. "She's a bit like Derek when it comes to high stress situations. She throws herself into tasks, always keeps herself busy; keeps herself moving. She's been neck deep in funeral arrangements since Dad…" she trailed off, biting her lip. She drew in a staggering breath, continuing, "Well, since Dad, and the last time I talked to her she had just gotten off the phone with the local florist."

Stiles nodded, wiggling his finger at Quinn. She grabbed it in her tiny fist, clutching it as tightly as she could, and then dragged his hand to her mouth, toothless gums gnawing on his finger. "Is your whole family just allergic to crying or something?" He hadn't meant to say it, and he thought for sure Laura was going to deck him in the face, but she surprised him by ducking her head, rubbing at her eyes.

"Laura," Stiles started weakly, reaching out to place his free hand on her shoulder. He didn't give her some spiel about everything being okay eventually, about how the pain would go away and the Hales would be good as new, because Stiles knew, firsthand, that the pain never went away. Not really; it just became more manageable.

Quinn squealed, obviously sensing her mother's distress, and Laura turned to her daughter. Stiles stepped away from the baby, watching as Laura scooped her up and hugged her to her chest. "It's okay, noodle. Mommy's all right."

Stiles caught sight of Talia walking towards them, clutching tightly to her carryon bag, head held high and face the epitome of stoic, but Stiles could tell she was nearing her breaking point. He remembered his grandmother trying to keep it together, how she put on a brave face, helped out with his mother's funeral, took care of Stiles, kept everything buried so she could be strong for her family, and then promptly lost it at the funeral, during the eulogy, cursing God and everything under the sun.

"How could you take my daughter, you self-righteous son-of-a-bitch," she had yelled, her eyes heavenward, her voice shrill and sharp. "How could you let her die when, and leave my Czcibor without his mother? Why God? Answer me this!"

It had taken three people to restrain his grandmother, and they had to escort her back to the limo where she spent the majority of the funeral. Stiles had sat with her, unable to bear watching his mother get lowered into the ground, and his grandmother had pulled him into her lap and whispered, "She loved you more than her life, and she will continue to love you, do you hear me?" He had nodded, resting his head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat; the same heart that stopped beating two years later after a long battle with ovarian cancer.

Stiles really hoped that didn't happen at Nathan's funeral. He already hated seeing how the Hale siblings were dealing with their father's death, the idea of Talia emotionally imploding left a nasty taste in Stiles' mouth and a sour pit in his stomach.

Talia gave her daughter and granddaughter a hug, kissing the side of the latter's head. She turned to Stiles, giving him a quick hug, and he took her bag. The trio left the airport, after Laura had put Quinn back in her baby seat, and Stiles offered to drive them back to the Hale house.

"Derek's been baking, Mom," Laura explained once they were piled into Laura's SUV.

"Has he gotten any sleep?" Talia asked from the backseat, fussing with Quinn when she made a gurgling sound, running a gentle finger through her dark hair.

"He was napping when we left," Laura said turning to look at her mother. "But it's been four days, and this is probably the longest he's slept. And Cora hasn't been home in almost two days, Peter's been working on this end to get the funeral ready for Saturday, and…"

"Laura, when's the last time  _you've_  slept?" Talia gave her daughter a probing look, daring her to lie, and Laura sighed, looking away from her mother, shrugging. Now that Stiles really studied her, he could see that she looked almost as exhausted as Derek, and he felt more worry build in his stomach for the Hales. "When we get home I want you to go straight to bed."

"Mother, I'm thirty-seven…"

" _Bed_ ," Talia stressed and Laura fell silent, crossing her arms tightly across her chest, glaring at the dashboard. A heavy silence fell upon the car, and, for the first time in his life, Stiles didn't bother trying to break it.

* * *

The night before her father's funeral, Cora awoke to Erica looming over her, long, blonde hair falling into her face, bright red, ruby lips inches from her face. She smiled softly and whispered, "You wanna go get drunk?"

Cora turned her head, eyes falling on a peacefully sleeping Lydia. The redhead's face was tilted towards the brunette, one hand wrapped loosely around Cora's, warm breath ghosting across her arm. She turned back to Erica and whispered, "Alright."

"Good." Erica backed away from Cora, nudging Lydia with her hand. "Hey, brat, wake up. We're going to get drunk."

"Fuck you," Lydia sniffed, half groggy, but she still opened her green eyes, slowly sitting up. She looked between Cora and Erica, running a hand through her messy hair, and murmured, "What time is it?"

"Whiskey time," Erica replied and headed out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "Clothing optional." The door closed on her little smirk, and Cora rolled her eyes, getting out of bed. She staggered around in the dark, looking for her clothes, feeling something soft and warm press into her arm, a face burying itself into her shoulder.

"We could just go back to bed," Lydia suggested sleepily, her eyes closed, her breath soft against Cora's skin. For a second, Cora almost agreed, but her father was being buried in twelve hours, Laura was falling apart, their mother had gotten so caught up in planning she was physically  _not_  allowing herself to grieve, and Derek went through two stages of being there or so far away, baking those stupid muffins, that Cora needed to blow off some steam, even for a few hours.

"I want to get drunk," she said softly, untangling herself from Lydia. She found her jeans on the floor, pulling them on, and grabbed a random shirt (Lydia's stupid dog sweater, of course) before heading out of the room. Lydia sighed heavily, but several moments later she joined Erica and Cora, wearing Cora's t-shirt and a pair of track pants, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail.

"Miss Lydia, why I do declare, are you forgoing actually wearing make-up?" Erica teased putting a hand to her heart in faux-surprise.

"Yes, but only because we're drinking here, and we're  _not_  having whiskey," Lydia responded heading into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with an open bottle of wine and three glasses. "Danny keeps a secret stash in the pantry because he thinks I wouldn't check in there, but the joke's on him."

Erica shrugged her jacket off, throwing it over the back of Lydia's couch, and draped her body across the armchair while Lydia and Cora took the couch. Lydia poured the wine, handing out glasses, putting the bottle on the floor. "What should we…?" Lydia trailed off when Cora drained her glass, snatching the bottle up off the floor and pouring a second.

"Or we can just drink," Erica stated taking a sip from her glass.

The bottle was mostly empty when Cora finally starting talking, three-fourths of the wine sloshing around in her stomach. She was draped across Lydia, head resting in her lap, staring at the spinning ceiling. "You know, Dad always liked Laura and Derek best."

"That's not true," Lydia said softly, running her fingers through Cora's hair. From across the room, Erica was asleep in the armchair, clutching the wine bottle to her chest. She twitched, obviously having a dream, and muttered, "Not there, Boyd, you know I'm ticklish." She then turned over, burying her face into the back of the leather chair.

"It is," Cora insisted stubbornly. "Laura was the shining star in our family, was everything Dad wanted me to be, and Derek, oh let's not forget straight A, captain of the swim team Derek. No one could compete with Saint Laura and Derek in Dad's eyes. If only he knew that Laura had Jeff Miller living in her bedroom for two weeks when she was sixteen, and Derek, well Derek didn't particularly  _like_  swimming but he did it because Dad did and Derek did whatever he could to please our father." Cora glared at the ceiling and added, "Though, knowing Dad, he would have been like 'Laura obviously had her reasons, and it couldn't possibly be about sex because she just doesn't do things like that.' And he would have probably said 'son, you don't need to please me to make me happy.'" She huffed once, and bitterly said, "You know, I bet his last words were 'Laura and Derek were and always will be my favorites. Suck it other, nameless child.'"

"Cora…"

"You don't get it, Lydia," Cora said sitting up, fixing Lydia with a hard stare (or, at least trying to, there were two of the redhead and she wasn't quite sure she was looking at the right one). "My dad had this way of putting on a show for people, making them believe he was this doting father who loved all three of his children equally, but behind closed doors he spent ninety percent of the time comparing me to Derek and Laura.

"'Cora, why aren't you a part of more clubs like Derek?' 'Cora, how come you don't dress more like Laura?' 'Why doesn't the light shine out of your butt like it does Derek and Laura's?'" She giggled at the last part, laying back down, looking up at Lydia, but her laughter broke off into an involuntary sob. Cora covered her face with her hand, sniffing. "I spent most of my life hating him, you know, and now he's gone and I'm stuck with this idea that Laura and Derek always came first whenever Dad was concerned, and I was just an afterthought."

Lydia buried her fingers into Cora's hair and softly said, "My mother once told me that my sister Mara was the only child her and my dad wanted, and that my dad accused my mother of getting pregnant with me so he couldn't leave her." She leaned forward, lips brushing against Cora's, and whispered, "I understand not being loved by your father, and the two times I met your dad, I could tell he did not love Laura and Derek more than you."

Cora nodded, knowing she should have a problem with Lydia comforting her, but she just couldn't bring herself to care. Instead, she turned her head, burying her face in Lydia's stomach, and murmured, "Thank you."

"Just so you know," Erica said from across the room, "I'm documenting this moment as the first time Cora said thank you to anyone."

"Shut up," Cora grumbled reaching around Lydia for a pillow. Her hand found Lydia's by mistake, and the red head softly gasped before letting her fingers relax against Cora's, squeezing them. Cora squeezed back after a few seconds, leaving their hands interlocked, but she was blaming it on the wine if anyone asked her about it in the morning.

* * *

Stiles awoke to a clatter followed by a sharp curse. He sat up, running a hand through his hair, looking over at his empty bed. He rolled out of bed, his blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, and walked out of his room, nearly running into Scott.

"Dude, it's three o'clock in the morning," Scott whined rubbing at his eyes, his dark hair a complete mess on top of his head.

"I know," Stiles replied pushing Scott towards his room. "Just close the door and go back to sleep."

"I'd be more upset if Derek couldn't make me apology cake," Scott grumbled and headed back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Stiles waited a beat before heading down the hallway, stopping next to the couch, watching Derek carefully. He grumbled under his breath, picking up muffin pieces with his right hand, cradling his left hand to his chest. Stiles moved across the room, his blanket dragging on the floor, and crouched down next to Derek.

"Hey, buddy, did you burn your hand?" Stiles asked trying to take Derek's hand. The older man wouldn't relinquish it; instead he continued to pick up his mess. "You might want to put some aloe on that wound; it'll help soothe the burn."

"I'm fine," Derek muttered tossing bits into the muffin pan. "I'm perfectly fine. My dad is gone, my family is a complete mess, but I am completely fine." He violently hurtled a few more pieces into the pan before shoving the pan away from him, falling back into the cabinet, burying his face in his uninjured hand.

"Hey," Stiles said softly, taking a seat next to Derek, wrapping his blanket around them both. "Talk to me. Tell Dr. Stiles what's going on."

"You're not a doctor," Derek said, his voice barely above a broken whisper.

"Semantics." Stiles shrugged and Derek snorted, the laugh breaking off into a small sob. "Hey," Stiles put an arm around Derek, pulling him into his chest, "I'm right here. You know that, right?" Derek nodded, burying his face into Stiles' shirt. "Okay, so talk to me."

It took almost five minutes, Stiles almost certain Derek had fallen asleep, before the older man said, "I-I miss him, you know? I mean, he was too involved in my life and all, but he was my dad. I-I'm not…" he sighed, fiddling with a loose thread on Stiles' Batman t-shirt. "I can't make the pain stop, no matter how hard I try, and that…" Derek shook his head, burying it back into Stiles' chest again.

"No one's asking you to," Stiles murmured running his hand through Derek's hair. "And no expects you to stay in control. You just lost your dad, Derek. Let yourself be sad, let yourself grieve, otherwise the pain will never become manageable. It'll get worse and worse until it consumes you and the only thing left behind is this bitter shell of your old self.

"And I like you the way you are," Stiles continued blinking, trying to clear his vision. "I don't want to lose you. Not like I almost lost my dad." He leaned forward, kissing Derek's hair, and said, "I need you, okay. More than you'll ever know, so don't check out on me, okay?" Derek nodded again, and just let go.

Scott found them on the kitchen floor the next morning, both wrapped up in Stiles' blanket, passed out against each other. After cleaning up the messy kitchen, Scott stole three muffins, left a note promising Stiles he'd see him and Derek at the funeral, and then threw another blanket over the two before heading into work.

* * *

Talia did not curse God, nor did she have a complete breakdown at her husband's funeral, but she did have to excuse herself halfway through the ceremony. Laura and Derek went after her, but they both returned without her, retaking their seats. Laura gestured for the priest to continue, resting her head on Max's shoulder, staining his already damp shirt with more of her tears.

Cora could feel Lydia's eyes on her, and she tried to ignore the redhead, her eyes hidden behind a big pair of Jackie O sunglasses she had stolen from Lydia. She failed, glancing back at the redhead, and the two women held eye contact for a bit before Cora faced forward again.

When the funeral ended, and Nathan Hale was lowered into the ground, Cora waited until the crowd dispersed, Max and Laura taking Quinn back towards their car, Stiles gently coaxing Derek towards his jeep, Talia accepting Sheriff Stilinski's offer to escort her back towards her car, before she turned her attention to her father.

She grabbed a handful of dirt, tossing it on top of her father's casket. She looked into the hole, feeling a familiar, warm hand wrap around hers, and she whispered, "Good-bye, Dad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure when this turned into such a Cora-centric chapter, but that's what happened, also I am trying out a new pairing for Teen Wolf (if you don't ship it, I cannot help you), so yeah.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, and let me know what you though. Thanks for the kudos and reading, and I still don't own anyone associated with Teen Wolf
> 
> Bye!!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some Sterek and Scira (with a dash of Berica and Cordia). I may have slipped in a very small amount of Danny/Isaac, but you'll have to read to find out.
> 
> I'm in a shipping mood tonight. I'm not even sorry.
> 
> Thanks for reading and drop me a comment if you can
> 
> BYE!!!  
> P.S. Couldn't think of a title for this chapter. I may add one later.

Stiles wasn't going to lie. He really, really, loved to dance even if he wasn't very good at it. He was a mess of limbs and too clumsy to actually keep up a decent rhythm. Hell, most people wouldn't even label his moves as 'dancing,' but it didn't stop him from busting them out when a song with a decent beat played. Sometimes the song didn't even need a decent beat. And, alright, sometimes a song wasn't exactly playing, but Stiles' moves were so sweet he didn't even need music ("and fuck you, Erica, my moves  _are_  sweet").

So, when Lydia and Erica (who he had always suspected shared the same brain) suggested they go to a night club, Stiles immediately jumped on the offer. Since the last time he had made plans was a complete disaster (with Scott riding the E-Train while Stiles watched a child be born), Stiles made damn sure he wasn't working so he could have fun with the others (and make damn sure Scott didn't take anything hinky).

"So, I invited Kira," Derek said conversationally, sitting on the edge of Stiles' bed, watching the younger man get dressed.

"Okay," Stiles replied nodding. "I didn't know you and Kira were friends." He selected a Green Lantern t-shirt, trying to hide his happiness that Derek actually made a friend. The man needed friends; he couldn't spend his entire day hanging out with his family or Stiles (even if Stiles wouldn't exactly mind the latter).

"Yeah, well, Kira isn't that bad," Derek admitted with a small shrug, fiddling with the thumbholes on his blue sweater, his eyes downcast. "Plus, she likes Scott so…"

"Wait." Stiles whirled around, grabbing his desk to keep himself from falling over, and looked down at Derek. "Are you…?" he trailed off, crossing the room slowly, leaning in until he was inches from Derek's face. "You're trying to set Scott and Kira up, aren't you?"

"What?" Derek pulled his head back, refusing to meet Stiles' eyes. "That, that's ridiculous. I don't  _care_  if Scott and Kira get together."

"You are such a liar," Stiles exclaimed laughing, grabbing Derek's face between his hands. He turned the older man's head towards him, squeezing his cheeks, and said, "It's also completely adorable you wanna help Scott and Kira."

"Shut up," Derek grumbled, his words muffled. "And let go of my face."

"Nope," Stiles said popping the p. He then leaned forward, giving Derek a chaste kiss. When they broke apart, Stiles released his face and returned to getting dressed. "You do realize that I'm going to have to tell Laura about this. It is my duty, as her best friend, to tell her…"

Derek jumped off the bed, grabbing Stiles around the middle and lightly throwing him on the bed. He pounced on the younger guy, straddling him, feeling him shake with laughter beneath him, and grabbed his wrists in one hand, holding them over his head.

"I'm telling Laura whether you like it or not," Stiles said breathlessly, his eyes shining with mirth.

"No you won't," Derek replied digging his fingers into Stiles' side. Stiles squirmed underneath Derek, trying to free his hands, howling with laughter.

"I-I'll never surrender," he yelled around his giggles. "I-I have the will of a lion…ACK!" Derek had grabbed Stiles behind the knee, something only Scott was supposed to know about, and Stiles made a mental note to kill his best friend.

"Is this some new, experimental sex thing?" Cora asked from the doorway, startling both men. Derek released Stiles, but stayed in his position above the young guy, turning towards his sister, giving her a small glare. She smirked back, her arms crossed, leaning against the entryway.

"Who let you in?" Stiles questioned trying to catch his breath, clutching his aching stomach with one hand, wiping tears from his eyes with the other.

"Lydia," Cora replied shrugging, pushing away from the door. "She says you have ten minutes or she's getting the hose." The youngest Hale walked away, and Derek snorted, getting off Stiles. He offered the younger man a hand, pulling him to his feet.

"You're a jerk," Stiles stated with no malice, pushing at Derek's shoulder.

"Am not," Derek replied wrapping an arm around Stiles' shoulder, steering him towards the doorway. They walked out of his room, heading down the hallway, only to freeze. Cora and Lydia were standing in Stiles' kitchenette, wrapped around each other, but they broke apart when Derek cleared his throat.

"Hi," Lydia said waving, her ears turning a little pink. Cora, however, was bright red, her eyes downcast, muttering darkly under her breath. "Surprise."

"Can Laura hear about this?" Stiles asked curiously, glancing at Derek.

"No," Cora snapped just as Derek said, "Yeah."

* * *

"I still don't understand why you never said anything," Derek said to his sister, following her to the bar. "It's not like we've never met your girlfriends before."

"Okay first," Cora started, turning to face her brother, "Lydia is  _not_  my girlfriend. And second, it's not your business." She turned back to the bar, ordering a beer and one of those frilly drinks Lydia liked.

"Not your girlfriend, huh," Derek commented with a small smirk on his face.

"I hate you," Cora grumbled and Derek snorted, heading back towards their table. Erica and Boyd were sitting in the corner of the both, the former sitting in the latter's lap, feeding him olives. Lydia had her eyes glued to her cell phone, furiously typing a text message, her eyebrows furrowing with each word. Danny and Isaac were sitting awkwardly next to each other, occasionally tossing each other small, polite smiles, while Scott and Kira smiled down at the table every time they made eye contact.

It felt like a victory on Derek's part.

"Dance with me," Stiles yelled over the music, grabbing Derek's arm and dragging him to the dance floor. Derek wasn't much of a dancer, his sisters claimed he danced like a dad, and Derek smiled when he thought about what his father used to say,  _"There's nothing wrong with dancing like a dad, girls_." It still hurt to think about his dad, but he was getting better.

"I think Kira and Scott are hitting it off nicely," Stiles shouted over the music, doing a ridiculous dance movement that involved waving his index fingers in the air and moving his torso back and forth.

"I hadn't noticed," Derek lied trying hard not to laugh at Stiles' moves.

"You liar!" Stiles retorted grabbing Derek's hands. "You are a lying liar who lies!" He moved their joined hands into circles, their bodies moving with the motion, and Derek snorted. "What? These are some sweet ass moves, Grumpy!"

After a while, Derek moved with Stiles, trying to keep up with the younger guy but giving up, and resorting back to his 'dad' dancing. Stiles laughed, clapping his hands, and joined him. Derek had never felt more ridiculous in his life, but, at the same time, he had to admit he was having a good time.

* * *

Scott watched as his friends started leaving in pairs. First, Boyd and Erica left, wrapped up in each other, but somehow managing to miss everyone they walked past. Danny and Isaac left next, the latter offering the former a ride home. Lydia and Cora followed shortly after (and Scott had totally called it even if no one believed him) the latter helping the former towards the door when she stumbled over her feet. Last was Derek and Stiles, the latter draped over the former's shoulder, laughing loudly.

"I love you, beautiful people!" Stiles shouted, words slurred, hands groping Derek's ass, the older man jolting forward, nearly dropping his drunk cargo. "But I love this more! Hey Scott, didja see Derek's butt!"

"Good night, Stiles," Scott said waving, following his friends out of the club, Kira steps behind him.

"Good night, Scotty," Stiles replied waving back. "Love you! But not as much as I love you!" He made kissy faces at Derek, and the older man rolled his eyes, grinning, carrying Stiles towards the parking lot.

"Stiles has always been a lightweight," Scott explained turning to Kira.

"Oh, yeah, but he's a super nice drunk," she commented grinning.

"Totally," Scott agreed chuckling.

They started towards the parking lot, Scott burying his hands in his pocket while Kira tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Scott pulled his keys from his pocket, nodding towards his bike. "Do you…?" he started just as Kira asked, "I could give you…"

"Sorry," they said together, smiling. "No it's fine. I just…" they laughed, looking away from each other.

"I see you don't need a ride," Kira finally said, looking up to meet Scott's dark eyes.

"You either," he replied looking over at her red Bug. "So, I uh…" He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up. "Can I call you sometime?"

"You want to call me?" she asked slowly, her voice a little breathless.

"Yeah." Scott nodded, scratching the back of his neck. "And I'm sorry for coming on too strong, but I haven't done the, you know, ask a girl for her numbed thing in six years. So…"

"No, it's fine," she answered quickly, pulling her phone from her pocket. She fumbled with it, managing to catch it, her face turning red. "Uh, h-here, put your number…"

"Alright." Scott programmed his number into her phone, taking a beaming photo of himself, and handed the phone back. "So, I should go…" he nodded towards his bike.

"Okay." Kira smiled, turning towards her car. "Good night, Scott."

"Good night," he said and watched as she got into her Bug and drove away. He waited until he saw headlights before heading towards his bike, mentally kicking himself when he realized he hadn't gotten her number in return.

His phone buzzed against his leg, startling him, and he pulled it from his pocket. He opened the new text, grinning when he read,  _I had fun tonight :)_

Scott sent back,  _Me too._


End file.
